Extreme Rules
by SierraHotelIndiaEchoLimaDelta
Summary: Star Wolf irritates everyone. They're cunning, dangerous, and surprisingly evasive; raising hell wherever they go in order to churn a profit, while Star Fox is always on their tails in hopes to bring them to justice. The last thing either side needs in the middle of this feud is another hell-raiser. An enigmatic, neutral, and wild hell-raiser, no less.
1. Chapter 1

_Well, seeing as though my first story got such a great reception. :/ Little disappointed about that, but hey; can't help everyone. Hopefully this goes over well with everyone. I'd love some feedback since my first attempt fell flat and kinda killed my confidence, which is why I came here in the first place. I'll leave it at that, and I hope you enjoy._

 _[Sierra]_

* * *

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 **Chapter One**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

* * *

"Atta girl Shira, you're doing great," the female collie-wolf hybrid's coach said with confidence and assurance, dumping a stream of cold water onto her neck. As two other trainers tended to her bruises and other wounds, including a cut just underneath her pale blue eye, her coach continued, "You've got the upper hand on her, but don't let her get away with shit. Stay low, keep her moving, tire her out, and then strike. That's how you won the title, and that's how you're gonna keep it."

The collie-wolf hybrid, Shira, merely nodded in affirmation.

"Now get out there and kick some ass," the trainer said with enthusiasm, squirting an ample amount of iced water into her muzzle. She swallowed half, then spit the rest out onto the sweat-permeated mat as she rose form her stool.

Shira could feel her brown and gray fur cling to her skin and weigh her down. Her soaked black attire sporting her many sponsors added to that unfortunate weight addition, but this was the condition she thrived in. Zara, the female Alsatian across from her, gave off an aura of intimidation, being that she stood at six foot five and had the figure of a natural born fighter, but Shira managed to top that, being as she stood at six foot eight and had a slender, firm physique and stature. She had to hand it to her shepherd opponent; Zara was surviving her onslaught very well, and even managed to get a few good licks on her in the process, evident with the cut under her eye. If anyone had a chance to end Shira's title reign as the female heavyweight champion, it was Zara.

She took the moment of preparation to get her quick moment of Zen and psych herself up for the final round. Bouncing on her feet, she waited for the referee to signal the fight to recommence. As was her usual ritual, Shira took a quick moment to extend her gloved paw, yet keeping her expression blank and focused. Zara returned the gesture, tapping her own paw against the collie's, then wasted no time in continuing the match.

Shira nimbly dodged a left jab aimed at her muzzle, countering it with a low kick that caught the back of Zara's knee. Momentarily caught stumbling, Zara could only raise her arms up to block whatever strike was sure to come from the hybrid while she fought to regain her balance. Shira followed with three quick strikes against the Alsatian's arms just to wear her down.

Both fighters backed away to size each other up once more. Both were exhausted, battered, bruised, abused, and holding back overwhelming pain as they limped around the perimeter of the inner circle. Zara's limp on the leg Shira's savage kick impacted looked absolutely sickening, for it seemed she could only put a minute fraction of her full body weight on it. They both had their tongues limply hanging out of their muzzles, panting, and internally pleading for something to end the match.

Shira stared down Zara with her icy eyes, still as calm and collected as she was when the match first started. Noticing that the shepherd's limp was progressively getting worse the more she moved around, Shira took her opportunity. She inched forward and attempted to strike, but only made feints to get the injured canine moving. The appalling limp, as she anticipated, had become so strong that Zara's movements as a whole were becoming slow and uncoordinated.

This was her time.

With a rush of adrenaline, Shira drove forward, completely catching the Alsatian off-guard as the hybrid landed a heavy hook into her ribcage. She recoiled at the impact, leaning right into another blow that caught the other side of her chest. Zara quickly tried to escape her predicament, only to have her leg buckle as she fell to the ground. As the crowd boisterously screamed at the ensuing exchange, Shira pounced on her incapacitated opponent, straddling her chest as she nailed one strike after another, pummeling the poor shepherd's face. The referee was quick to intervene when he noticed that Zara was not coherently trying to defend herself due to the hybrid's savage assault. As soon as he told Shira to get off, the collie hybrid roared with feral intensity at the recognition of victory, causing the entire arena to erupt into hysterics.

After all of the trainers and reporters flooded the caged octagon, and after the fighters had a moment to regain their breath and let their emotions simmer down (for the most part), the in-ring announcer loudly proclaimed Shira Amorae as the winner and retainer of the women's heavyweight belt via technical knock-out. Objecting from any interviews, Shira surrounded herself with her trainers and had them escort her out of the spotlight, potentially to get her into a quiet room to regain her bearings and to calm the ringing in her ears.

"She's good," Wolf O'Donnell said truthfully, keeping himself and his two teammates, Leon Powalski and Panther Caroso, in the shadows lining the main arena.

"I like her," the chameleon to his right remarked. "Like a thunderstorm, this Shira is. Beautiful… but dangerous. Extremely violent. I bet she enjoys destroying her competition…"

"I personally prefer it when they don't resist," Panther added, smirking at the ring below. "I'm glad I'm not picking a fight with her."

"All right; let's hit it," Wolf abruptly stated, backhanding both of his teammates. All three pulled up black half-masks hanging from their necks, painted with the skeleton of their respective jaw composition in a contrasting white design. They all sported similar attires, mainly comprised of black Kevlar vests and dark cargo pants, completely loaded with tactical gear concealed from prying eyes.

The trio exited the main arena, flowing with the early departing crowd in order to stay obscured and secretive. Leon led the way, with Panther and Wolf closely pursuing while acting as ordinary as possible. None seemed to notice their heavy tactical gear aside from a few, who just looked and made nothing of it. Wolf's identifying mark, his glowing cybernetic eyepiece, was not on his person to potentially blow their cover. Funny enough, Wolf never needed the damn thing. He only wore the patches and eyepieces to add to his already intimidating aura, but in stealth missions such as this, he didn't need silly accessories weighing him down.

While Wolf and Panther watched his back, Leon procured a small, metallic stick from his pocket, then activated a narrow green beam that melted right through the deadbolt lock on a supply room. Both Leon and Panther slipped inside while Wolf stood right outside to keep a watchful eye.

"We're gonna need the tactical set; nothing heavy," Wolf spoke quietly into his microphone hidden away by his mask. "SMGs. Suppressors. We're gonna need to be quick here."

"Target?" Leon's voice crackled through his earpiece.

Wolf outstretched his arm, then swiped at his wrist towards his body, toggling a holographic map display to coat his bare forearm. He zoomed in on the map, a pulsating dot appearing once he zoomed in far enough. Right where he needed it to be.

"Still on-site," Wolf replied, deactivating the display. "The entourage hasn't left yet, so that's a good sign."

"Better not've," Panther broke in. "I'm not letting this bounty go to waste."

"We all aren't," Wolf gruffly responded. "Let's get movin', boys."

Leon and Panther exited the room shortly after, handing off a compact SMG and a few extra tactical objects to the guarding wolf. The trio folded up their respective weapons and strapped them to the backs of their vests, then reassumed their line and advanced. This time, Panther took the lead, slipping forward and through one of the interconnecting tunnels that lead out into the main arena. He raised up his wrist, activating a lens of sorts that he used to scan the interior. After sweeping his arm throughout the sections, he stopped when his scanner picked out something.

"Got eyes on target," Panther said in a low whisper, prompting the two others to form up behind him. The black cat held his arm out, pointing at the outline of a figure outlined orange in the middle of a sea of others tinted blue by the artificial display. Wolf chuckled at what he saw.

"Commander Kusa herself," sneered O'Donnell, forcing his arm into the display to zoom in on the image. The young female arctic fox outlined by the orange indicator laughed along with some of her agents, probably discussing the outcome of the match minutes prior. Silky heather gray hair ran down beyond her shoulders, mirroring the pigment of the fur on her forearms and hands. The rest of her fur that wasn't concealed by tight black leggings and a rosy pink sweater was colored either light gray or white depending on where it was. However, even with the distance Wolf had on the Commander, he could tell that, underneath her sweater, was a thinner, yet more protective vest much like his own. She came prepared.

"Around," Wolf growled through clenched teeth. "Leon, pull a disruptor EMP here. We'll have five minutes to get around, maybe less."

As Wolf and Panther retreated into the perimeter concourse, the chameleon pulled the pin on a cylindrical canister, then tossed it around the corner of the tunnel before backing out as well. As he calculated, the grenade rolled halfway down the seating section before tumbling down a few rows. As soon as it reached the bottom row, it silently detonated in a dense, electrical shockwave that sent electronics into a standstill.

Commander Kusa flinched when her concealed earpiece suddenly erupted into loud static. She cringed at the intense sound, instantly ripping it out of her vulpine ear as the guards surrounding her did the same.

"What was that?" Kusa demanded, her bushy tail beginning to flick around erratically.

"Glitch in the system," a feline officer assured her, attempting to activate a HUD on his visor only to be rewarded with nothing. "Huh… I'm dead."

"I'm out too," another spoke up, launching a frenzy of similar responses from her team of armored officers.

"Okay, time to go then," the vixen concluded, patting the two nearest officers on their shoulders. "I'm not taking any chances. Let the perimeter know we're on our way."

"Comms are out too," the feline officer from before informed her. "We're blind for now."

Commander Kusa huffed in subtle anger. "Just get me out of here then."

"Understood."

Nestled in the protective bubble of armored agents, Kusa found herself enveloped behind much taller soldiers that towered over her by as much as a foot and a half in some instances. Even so, she poked her muzzle out of the gap between two of the front-most guards, watching as they primed their weapons as they escaped through the hallway.

Wolf stopped and signaled for his team to disappear behind the indentation for the now closed concessions as the team of agents popped out into the concourse with their VIP in tow. "Shit, they're on the move," he hissed, poking his eyes out to see the team wind the curving concourse lining the circular arena. "Caroso, stalk the prey. Tell us where they're going, and for God's sake, don't let them see you. Leon, you're with me. We're gonna cut 'em off."

The three broke up, Powalski closely pursuing O'Donnell as they darted across the concourse to the outer rim, stopping at an employee access only stairwell locked by a keypad. Leon touched his wrist, activating a program with a subsequent interface that cycled through all nine digits in the four-digit combination. Within seconds, they were able to slip through the unlocked door, descending into the bowels of the arena.

"Update," Wolf blurted out, reactivating his holographic forearm map of the arena. The blinking red dot from before still sat comfortably on the west side, where Kusa and her team were headed as well.

"Still moving," Panther's quiet voice answered. "Seven guards total. All suited up, most with carbines."

"Do not engage," Wolf demanded. "If you need to, divert them. Push them back to the north end."

Caroso acknowledged his order positively, shutting his microphone off while silently stalking his prey. Darting from cover to cover without drawing attention to himself, the panther always kept Commander Kusa and her entourage of protection within view. He refrained from chuckling as he watched Kusa figuratively drown in her taller and much burlier protection.

He noticed a fuse box nestled behind crates of merchandise and hidden behind the outcropping of the outermost wall. Checking his surroundings for the umpteenth time, Panther rushed over and slid behind the makeshift cover. He cut the lock and examined the contents, searching for something to impede the Commander's advance. After a scan of the systems, he found out that one of the fuses was connected to the west side mechanical gates, so he wasted no time in shortening out that specific line with a program on his wrist.

The entourage stopped in their tracks as they saw the gates descending down on the exit, scattering the steady stream of fans attempting to exit through that same gateway. Confusion quickly settled into fear and worry for Kusa, her tail beginning to spastically flail around.

"Damn," one of her guards cursed, holding up his arm and pointing down the opposite way, where, unbeknownst to him, Caroso sat in the shadows as he stalked his eventual prey. "North side, everyone; north side. Kazer, Taric; see if you can override the gates and let everyone through. If you can, let the convoy know we've changed locations."

"Yes, sir," a golden furred fox and a similarly colored canine both said in unison, prompting the remaining team to turn around and head straight for Panther.

"Package has been intercepted," Caroso boasted quietly. "Comin' back around to you fellas. North end lot. Convoy is staying put."

"Good work," Wolf praised, letting let Leon slip ahead to use his special program to unlock yet another restricted door. Inside sat a small intersecting room littered with extra technological equipment, with a hallway leading down to the locker rooms, an exit to the outside, and a steel staircase leading up to the catwalk for maintenance. Wolf's scanning program he brought up upon entering showed that there was a shortcut through an access gate up on the catwalk that would put them right in front of the north exit. After informing Leon, the two made their way towards the stairs.

Kusa moaned in protest, glancing down at her watch, which too had been affected by the disrupting burst. "I don't like this," she remarked bitterly.

"We're just doing our job, Miss Atkiness," a different agent reminded her. "We'll get you out safe and sound."

Paranoia plagued the poor vixen to the point where her light brown eyes flashed around her vicinity, focused on picking out minor details that may be hazardous. She clung onto the biggest body of her security force, tightly holding his short sleeve that slipped out of his protective vest. "Please hurry," she requested, her voice squeaky and unsettled.

"Easy, Commander," came the chuckle of the rear guard, unclasping a pistol from his belt and gently handing it to the gray arctic fox. "Here, this should ease your worries."

"Thanks, I feel _so_ much better," Kusa said with sarcasm, examining the weapon given to her. After a second, she said, "Thanks, anyway. I do feel a little better now."

The accessible catwalk high above the concourse provided a unique layer of cover for Wolf and Leon as they crept above Kusa and her team of agents like a hawk watching over its eventual dinner. Leon gave the interior of the building one more scan with his wrist-com, revealing that they didn't have much more distance to cover before they were at the foot of the north gate. He informed Wolf this fact, to which he decided to improvise.

Wolf suddenly broke off the trail of the catwalk, heading straight for another access door that Leon had to unlock. As the chameleon worked his magic, O'Donnell pried the cover off of a ventilation duct, the tossed a primed smoke grenade down the tube. Seconds later, after Leon had cut through the secure door, the floor fifty feet in front of the Commander and her crew suddenly became enveloped in a haze of white smoke. Screams were heard as both Star Wolf members reentered the passageway, traversing a long set of steel stairs before linking back up with the backstage area of the building.

"Commander, stay back," her advisor commanded, holding his carbine stock up to his shoulder as he scanned the smoke cloud with his mounted sights. The area around his glowing crosshairs pulsated every other second, illuminating the terrain obscured by the smokescreen. Luckily, all he saw was the outline of the concourse and a few terrified fans scattering from the scene. That still didn't prompt Kusa to release her white-knuckle grip on her handgun.

She prodded the shoulder of another guard with the barrel of the weapon. "Is it safe?"

"For now," he answered confidently.

"I'm not so sure," she argued, narrowing her eyes at the smokescreen. "That's too coincidental that a puff of smoke happens right here, right as we're walking by."

"Just relax, Commander, we can handle this," the first agent said surely.

"They're stopped because of the smoke," Panther informed them over their line. "If you're gonna do it, do it now."

O'Donnell and Powalski came across a room much like the one they were in moments prior; an intersecting room with a hallway leading to the dressing rooms and an exit to the outside, all overlooked by a steel catwalk. The booming sound of heavy boots on steel caught the ears of a resting Shira Amorae, piquing her interest as soon as the muffled sound reached her room. After removing the numerous cold packs and bags of melting ice off of her aching joints, as well as the seat of insulating earphones from her head, the collie hybrid gently rose to her feet and approached the door to her room. Tired from her match and annoyed by the clatter, she angrily jerked her door open and looked outside.

The hall down in the opposite direction looked calm, but when she looked down the other side, she saw the two dark clothed members of Star Wolf just get to the bottom of the stairs; the two that had just caused that clatter. She instantly deduced they weren't supposed to be down here because of their outfits. That was the first strike. The second strike was that they were the ones that caused the ruckus that disturbed her time of rest.

"Hey!" Shira snapped. "The hell are you two?"

Both men turned to face the dressing rooms' hallway, freezing as they saw the mixed martial artist staring back at them; her intimidating icy eyes glaring at them with curiosity, but predominant distaste. Leon merely pulled a smoke detonator from his vest, pulled the pin, then lobbed it into the hall. Unknowing what it was, but having the subliminal notion that it was hazardous in a way, Shira dove and scooped it up before it had the chance to detonate, rolled through her dive, then launched it back towards the duo as they attempted to climb back up the stairs. It had such perfect timing that it detonated in a huge puff of white smoke as soon as it touched the steel stairs, consuming both Wolf and Leon inside.

They had no choice but to retreat back down the staircase, where Shira lunged with newfound adrenaline; landing a devastating hook right into the chameleon's chest that sent him sprawling to the ground. Wolf noticed her rage and attempted to traverse the stairs once more, only to have the collie hybrid yank his ankle and pull him down. His jaw bounced off the stairs, dazing him a bit, but he managed to roll over and kick her away, only furthering the fighter's anger.

Shira barreled after Wolf, climbing up as many as three stairs at a time to chase after him. He stood his ground once he got to the top of the catwalk, using his own training to defend against the hybrid as she continued her assault. Punch after punch was thrown at Wolf, who barely managed to either deflect, dodge, or tank each blow as he was pushed farther back. Growling with impatience, Wolf tried his own attack, only to get it blocked away easily, and receive a kick to the gut for his troubles. She then grabbed his vest and pulled it towards her, stunned him with a violent uppercut with the pit of her elbow, then clotheslined him over the railing of the catwalk where he smashed through a table nearly fifteen feet below. Leon abandoned his attempted counterattack and went straight to check up on his boss, who laid on his back in amongst splintered wedges of wood, coughing and sputtering.

Shira dove over the guardrail, rolling head over heels to tackle Leon, then immediately sprung back to her feet afterward. While Leon flipped over and attempted to stand up, the hybrid scooped up a black steel chair leaning against the wall, and while holding both legs, she savagely _crack_ ed it over the chameleon's back over and over again until screws were coming loose and the chair no longer looked like a chair. After examining the mangled steel, she tossed it onto Powalski's writhing body

"Who the hell are you?" Shira snarled, grabbing Wolf by the neck and effortlessly pulling him out of the shrapnel of the table. Gripping the scruff of his neck, Shira forced the wolf against the wall, holding him almost a foot above the ground. "I said, _who are you_?"

Wolf responded by jerking his knee up into Shira's crotch, getting her to falter only slightly. That allowed him to thrust his wrist into her exposed midriff, consequently causing the fighter to howl in pain before collapsing to the ground with a dangerously high amount of volts coursing through her muscles. Against his body's will, Wolf stood up with great difficulty, before arousing Leon with a few gentle kicks and taps.

"We're… gonna need a moment, Caroso," Wolf wheezed, rubbing some of the pain out of his shoulders. "Stall the convoy. We got ambushed; we need a moment to recover."

"I'll… ask about that later…" Panther said with hesitance at first, before adding, "I've got an idea. You've got about five minutes to get up here, though."

Panther watched Kusa and her team exit when the smoke cleared, reforming on the sidewalk in front of the arena. They scanned the roads down all four directions the intersection before them sported, before one of them left the group, presumably to gain the attention of the vehicular entourage. Caroso then located his own EMP grenade on his vest, rolling it along the sidewalk after pulling the pin. It rolled behind a trash receptacle before detonating, instantly interfering with the electronic signs overhead as well as the stoplight at the intersection.

"Oh great," one of Kusa's men groaned. "Now we've got to deal with idiotic traffic. What the hell is going on tonight?"

"Someone's after me," Kusa abruptly concluded, instantly wedging herself behind an agent and the wall of the arena. She pulled back on his arms, effectively creating a little sanctuary for her to hide in. "EMPs, smoke bombs, closing the gate on us? What's next, an assassin putting a bullet in my head?"

"Miss Atkiness, please calm down," an agent told her calmly. "You'll be fine. Look, I see the convoy right now."

The light gray vixen breathed a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar line of trucks abruptly hopping the curb and parking halfway up the sidewalk. Six more men in armored suits rushed out upon stopping, immediately creating a small perimeter that secured their Commander. She was escorted to the third truck in the line of five, where, upon arriving, the back door to said truck opened with an all too familiar face popping out.

"It's McCloud," Panther growled into his receiver. "McCloud is with Kusa."

"Son of a bitch," Wolf growled back in predominant pain. "Caroso, just bail. Get out of there… We need to leave… now."

"Understood," Panther growled against his will, disappearing into the shadows.

"Do you know what it was?" Fox McCloud asked her.

"Yes," Kusa said, evidently out of breath. "It was some sort of EMP charge, but I don't know where it came from. One second our comms were on, and the next we got static. Then we got trapped by a gate closing on us, and then a smoke bomb went off in front of another gate."

"Well, I'm glad you got out of there when you did," Fox replied with a sure-footed smile. "I'll lag behind and see if anyone tries to follow you."

"Bless you, Fox," Kusa said with gratitude. "I'd really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Commander," Fox smiled even more warmly than before. The vixen extended her hand, to which Fox shook in a firm, yet gentle shake. Before he could react, Kusa had pulled Fox in for a random, playful embrace; evidently relieved with being in the safety of her full protection team.

Upon breaking up the impulsive hug, Kusa smiled warmly at the mercenary. "Meet back up with me in my office at HQ once you're done, Fox," she told him with her natural authoritative tone, adding flirtatious body language as her tail brushed up against Fox's leg. Smirking all the while, she added, "I've wanted to talk to you for some time now, but our schedules keep conflicting. You're not busy tonight, are you?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Fox smirked, fully aware of the young Commander's attempted flirtation. "What's this about?"

"Well, I really appreciate the whole Star Fox team acting as my last line of defense, bit I actually would like to commission you with an assignment," Kusa explained. "I'll fill you in with details later tonight, okay?"

"Sounds good, Commander," Fox nodded.

"Kusa," the vixen corrected with a grin. "Call me Kusa, Fox."

Fox simply smiled and nodded, opening the rear door for the vixen. Slyly, Kusa blew him a kiss before disappearing inside the armored vehicle, Fox blushing a bit as a result. As the line of trucks filed out, Fox turned to the remaining agents and went over a plan, subconsciously watching the truck that held Kusa pull away.

Still in the shadows, Caroso eyed the truck departing as well, only his eyes were focused on the tiny tracker embedded into the rear quarter panel. He glanced to his wrist, smirking as he saw the red indicator dot from before slowly roll away.

"Tagged her," Panther said in quiet triumph. "She can run… but Panther always gets what he wants…"


	2. Chapter 2

_I'll take a moment here to respond to a few FAQ's in the reviews, mainly because replying to reviews is a bit tedious to me when it's going to be nearly identical messages._

 _Yes, Order & Chaos, I have a tendency to neglect my own grammar. Funny enough, I pride myself on being an in-depth critiquer, yet I don't practice what I preach. In my defense, however, I focus more on the overall plot rather than conventions. But thank you for correcting me. It is a bitter pill to swallow knowing I still make my juvenile mistakes, but it is essential to improving._

 _Nail Strafer said it well. The only reason Shira seemed OP was because Wolf and Leon aren't martial artists; they're pilots and tacticians. And to answer more questions: this isn't the last we've seen of her. She'll appear more concrete and believable with time._

 _Most, if not all remaining questions will be answered in the ensuing chapter. If not, do not fret; for these are the introductory chapters after all. All will be resolved in due time.  
_

 _I know Sheppard from Sheppard Studios (in hindsight, all three of the Studio members) is an avid fan of shamelessly advertising music within their stories, and although I'm not a fan of the constant lyrical dump, I do appreciate a hint of applicable music. So, for this chapter, and this chapter only for the sake of the few that I know don't have that same affinity Sheppard does, I'd like to recommend the song "Catch and Release" by_ _Silversun Pickups_ _. On that note, please enjoy._

 _[Sierra]_

* * *

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 ** _Follow me  
Down the streams of sweat on your body  
Can't believe  
The lure was enough  
Do you see  
How the wind in your hair now feels differently?  
Catch and release  
The lure above_**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 **Chapter Two**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

* * *

Although the evening colors had long since vanished in favor of a blackened sky speckled with distant stars, the late autumn season was still prevalent. Shivering in the back seat of the CDF's armored truck, Kusa internally cursed the cold temperatures before snapping out, "Someone give me a jacket. It's freezing back here."

The agent in the passenger seat unclasped his seatbelt. "Right away," he answered promptly, peeling off his protective vest, then unzipped the fleece jacket underneath and tossed it to the vulpine commander.

"Thank you," she sighed, opting to drape the jacket over her folded arms and chest.

"Any word on McCloud?" the driver inquired.

"Nothing yet," the passenger answered. "They're still establishing a perimeter. If there _was_ someone there, they haven't found 'em yet."

A nauseating fearful feeling crept into Kusa's stomach. "You mean to tell me that it's still out there?"

"We don't know yet, Commander," the driver clarified quickly. "We don't even know if anybody hostile was there. Still could be a huge coincidence."

"When you're in a position like mine, you don't believe in coincidences," Kusa rebuked. "You believe in plots. Once you start believing in coincidences, that's when you get killed."

"We still can't jump to conclusions so soon, ma'am," he gently added.

"Don't start with that polite _ma'am_ garbage," Kusa growled.

"Kassiac," the passenger suddenly grunted, the earpiece in his ear blinking in a pale blue. "Yes, we're en route now; Commander's safe. …Understood. …Thank you."

The husky deactivated his earpiece and spun around in his seat to face the silver vixen. "McCloud and the team found a tampered storage closet—found empty ammunition crates and a few tactical grenades. No fingerprints on anything. They did find a carbine firearm and are cross-referencing registry and serial right now to see where it came from."

"There **_was_** someone there," Kusa muttered, again feeling sick to her stomach. "Screw it, I'm not taking any more risks. Horvath, take me home. I'm not going back to base."

"But Commander, what about–"

"I said take me home," she reiterated with authority. "Tell Fox to meet me there. Better yet, have someone drive him there after they're done at the arena. I wish to speak with him personally."

"Very well," Kassiac—the passenger—reluctantly replied, putting the message into the team's group messaging server. Horvath grumbled to himself, a tad bit frustrated that he had to backtrack almost five dense city blocks in order to get onto the interstate highway. Nevertheless, he obliged to the vixen's request and decided to take the quickest way to her suburban abode, which happened to be that highway.

Twenty painstakingly long minutes passed before their truck rolled onto the asphalt streets of Corneria City's highway, and it would be close to another half-hour before they would disembark the aforementioned highway. As they linked up with flowing traffic, Kassiac turned back around to face the commander.

"Team just checked archived surveillance camera footage; all inside arena cameras have no footage. They sabotaged the server."

Kusa huffed impatiently. "Unless you have good news, don't talk to me. I had a rough day, in case you couldn't tell. I just wanna rest right now."

"Understood," Kassiac grunted in reply, not wanting to bother the commander or test her already diminished patience.

The silver fox rolled up one of the fleece's sleeves, draped it over the seatbelt, and then laid her head overtop to create a makeshift pillow. Aside from the hushed chatter of the two officers speaking with on-site investigators and other soldiers, as well as the whirr of the tires rolling along asphalt, Kusa enjoyed what little peace and quiet she was awarded with. Yet, it was all but enjoyable in hindsight, for the constant thought of being targeted lingered within her subconscious. She fought with little to no success to push negative presumptions from her immediate thoughts, opting to replace them with more comforting ideas as vague as they appeared at first. Thoughts of relaxing at home became more vivid the more she stared out of her window and into the midnight skyline of Corneria City.

The vibrations of the truck's suspension provided an extra layer of soothing comfort as subtle and minute as they were. However, the roar of the truck's tires negated that much needed comfort. Feebly, Kusa pointed her muzzle up and said, "Can someone turn on the radio? Something quiet, please."

She turned back to her window as she heard Kassiac tamper with the touchscreen dashboard in between the two front seats. Mere seconds later, a comforting tune of quiet, slow, and soothing clean electric guitars blurred together in a metaphorical wall of sound reached her ears, dulling the scream of the outside highway. "Thanks," she murmured after a hint of contemplation, immediately returning to her world of detached thought. The distorted, chill riffs oozing out of the speakers only added to that unworldly dimension of dreams, stretching her belief of what was real and what was an unconscious dream the more her psychological layer desired to detach from her soul.

Kusa teetered on that ledge between the dream-world and real life, her eyelids fighting to stay open despite the mental weight being applied to close them. How she wasn't asleep yet, even she didn't know. Maybe the shock and sequential terror ensuing from the whole skirmish at the arena raised her brain activity so quickly and abruptly that her immediate sleep cycle had been altered. As if she didn't get enough sleep on a normal day… At least the hypnotic, warped sounds painted a faded, psychedelic picture in her conscience to ease that restlessness.

Meanwhile, back at the arena, Fox McCloud sat in the back of a CDF licensed utility van, surrounded with holographic computer screens cluttered with files upon files of information. Little did he know that the noise-cancelling headphones resting over his ear canals spewed out the exact same mentally soothing sound of twisted instruments Kusa had. Slouched in an office chair, Fox's green eyes flashed across all of his screens, absorbing information while keeping a specific thought in the back of his mind on standby.

He found the carbine resting in his lap in that utility closet, discretely hidden and in perfect condition. No prints, no other paperwork, nor were there any identifying marks like etchings or painted patterns. However, the gun still had a serial, allowing him to scavenge the database for whoever purchased the weapon in question. Other than that weapon, no other evidence could be located within the bounds of the arena other than used tactical grenade canisters that provided absolutely no relevant information.

Nodding his head along with the faint beat of drums, he scrolled through pages upon pages of information as the programs in the background combed over all known gun distributor databases in hopes that at least one matched with his evidence. In his eyepiece attached to his headgear, however, a notification flashed in the corner of his display. A new message from Krystal.

He opened it up on his smallest screen, and by the time he was halfway through the lengthy, unorganized run-on paragraph, he wanted to close it down and ignore it. As usual, her late night/early morning messages were rants personified into paragraphs similar to the interest value and understandability of university lectures. Once again, it was a discourse on why he wasn't home by midnight for the third night in a row, which—as usual—always degraded into the usual female relationship complaint of potential cheating or just overall disinterest. It had become such a common occurrence to him that he started ignoring the lack of substantial implications after the tens of nearly identical messages always flooding his eyepiece and clouding his immediate thought process.

He closed out the window, behind it appearing a match. The serial of the carbine did indeed pair up with a licensed dealer, yet that particular weapon, along with hundreds of identical ones, were reported stolen by the operator of the company. Nobody had any leads on the culprit of the robbery either. His only lead fell into a cold dead end. Defeated, Fox closed down his entire station and exited the van.

"Captain McCloud," shouted one of the on-site officers, trotting up to meet him. "Commander Kusa claimed she was not feeling well, so our team is escorting her home. She still wishes to meet with you tonight, so she wants to ask if you would be compliant in meeting her."

Fox immediately brought himself back to the message he had received minutes prior; the rant from his girlfriend and the hostility filled words present and prevalent within it. Tiredly, Fox dropped his headphones around his neck and answered with, "Okay, I'll meet her there."

"Great. I'll contact the team now," he said, rushing off in an instant.

While he trotted away, Fox pulled his headphones back up and turned up the volume as he sat on the tailgate of the van. Knowing Commander Kusa's façade of professionalism, her true nature of false subtleness in flirtation and suggestiveness could be much more evident behind closed doors. Yet, with his ever extinguishing flame with Krystal becoming all the more applicable, he pondered if that previously stated quality would have to be monitored. Nevertheless, Kusa did explicitly request his presence, and he'd be outright stupid is he turned down the offer or no-showed. It could be a second chance if her comment about potentially being commissioned once again was indeed truthful as well.

Fox eventually made the final decision in favor of her request. He asked one of the officers to escort him to Kusa's residence, and within minutes, Fox was bound for the commander's home.

It seemed like the twenty minutes after Kusa's truck left the highway took even longer than usual, for the fast paced events of the arena skirmish still hadn't completely settled down. The two officers exited the vehicle, with Kassiac coming around to open Kusa's door. Her light brown eyes stayed open, but she refused to budge, further cementing the idea that she had left the terminal of the natural world and had departed for the land of imagination. She eventually became conscious and aware of her surroundings after Kassiac had to give her a gentle nudge. She merely extended her arms, allowing Kassiac to gently scoop her out of the back seat and cradle her as he stepped up to the front door.

Kusa's narrow, two story suburban home came complete with a small lawn and a gravel driveway that crunched underneath her two security guards' boots. Red and gray brick created the foremost exterior wall, with dark gray siding wound around the rest of the walls and nearly black shingles composing the triangular roof and shutters lining the windows. The only light being shown on the premises came from the narrow streetlight embedded in Kusa's lawn, which was just enough to guide the two officers to her front door.

Horvath swiped Kusa's keys and unlocked the door so Kassiac could step inside. Once inside, Horvath flipped the light switch, activating two nightstand lamps—one in the back left corner of the living room and another a few feet away from the front door—that flooded the room with dull, yellow light. Kassiac kept his hold on her as he stepped over to a loveseat parallel with the lamp in the corner, then gently laid her on the dark brown fabric upholstery. As he did so, Horvath slipped between an identical loveseat mirroring the other one and a narrow coffee table in order to activate the simulated gas fireplace. Soon, the chill of the dark oak paneled living room would be replaced with a homely, comforting aura.

"Comfortable, Commander?" asked Kassiac.

"Yes, thank you," Kusa murmured, her eyes fluttering. "Horvath, Kassiac; you two are free to go. You'll be compensated for your extended services."

"Thank you, Commander," both officers replied in unison. As Kassiac stepped towards the door, Horvath added, "Have a nice night, Miss Atkiness. Captain McCloud should arrive in the next forty minutes."

With that, they both departed, leaving Kusa alone in the comfort of her own home. She heard the crunching of the truck's tires against her gravel driveway, and after that settled down, the hum of the engine slowly quieted until it was no longer audible to her ears. By that time, the simulated fireplace was spewing warm air throughout the living room, slowly seeping into other rooms as more and more time passed. As did the cold, her tensions and inner worries seemed to disperse as the time passed and as the heat coursed through the small interior. With that, her comfort only increased as well.

The smell of the arena wafted into her nose; a combination of the concessions' food, the smoke grenade that had gone off feet from her, and her nervous sweat all permeated her once divine smell. She couldn't sit and talk to Fox like this. She quickly scurried up her narrow staircase and slipped into the first door on the right, her bathroom. After illuminating the room, she wasted no time in adjusting the temperature as she activated a steady stream of water. She then located a towel and draped it over the handlebar of the glass-enclosed shower stall. While the water took its sweet time in warming up thanks to her old water heater, she couldn't deviate from eying herself in the mirror.

A smug smirk creasing her muzzle, she intentionally stripped herself down in the most provocative way, refusing to break eye contact with her reflection. Her lithe, shapely, and voluptuous furry frame psychologically begged to be fondled, grasped, and explored, especially in this time of the month. As such, her lustful eyes ogled her own curves in the same way that a man would stare down his eventual mate. She unabashedly took things into her own control, satisfying urges only she herself could perceive.

As she slipped under the comforting stream of steamy water, her desires claimed control of her mentality. She traced her body with her hands while the soothing water flowed down her pelt, stimulating two separate kinds of senses. What was once concealed and unexplored territory fell victim to her lustful movements and internal cravings. Not a single inch of her body wasn't inspected by the time she was completely covered in water that melted the stench of events prior. However, that smell was quickly replaced by something much stronger at the same time, once she realized that her urges had crossed the line between stimulating to satisfying.

She fell victim as soon as the scent hit her nose. Something that, at first, was only playful and soothing to her stressed nerves had quickly escalated. In normal situations she would bring herself under control, but they did say she had well over half an hour to herself, so a quick moment to appease building desires wouldn't hurt her scheduled meeting. The flowing water managed to drown her out a while, up until her adventure hit its end. A fractured scream followed by a string of various whimpers signaled that her cravings had been satisfied. Once she regained her bearings, it only took her ten minutes to rewash her hair and fur to reapply her heavenly lilac scent.

After drying out her fur and hair with her towel and hairdryer, she searched her bedroom closet for an appropriate outfit to wear for the hour or so Fox would be over. Then again, the more she thought, the more she came to the realization that getting dolled up for a short meeting such as this was beyond her needs. Fox didn't care and never really did in that aspect, so long as they were discussing specifics. So, it was decided that she would wear a baggy, stretched out t-shirt designed with the emblem of her favorite band, along with a pair of dark gray panties and nothing else. Sure, most of her fur below her waist was showing, but she was clean and presentable, and who was she to care in the presence of Lylat's most noteworthy mercenary? Maybe it could lead to something.

Fox stepped out onto the gravel pathway and thanked the driver before he pulled away. As he trotted up to the commander's front door, he activated his messaging software and quickly typed up a message to Krystal. After all, it was only common courtesy for him to reply to her messages, even though they were always negative beyond belief.

It read: " _I'm not going to be home tonight. There was an issue at the West End Arena, and the CDF is needing me to stay overnight at HQ to investigate. I'll be home in the afternoon tomorrow, I promise. I love you Krys, and I'm sorry for bailing again. I'll make it up to you someday_."

The sheer amount of outright lies depicted in his message made him ache as he sent it. He counted four. Four flat out lies, one after another like a gauntlet of psychological guilt the more he started at the sent receipt. Some lies were needed in order to preserve his security, but the others just made him feel sick the more he looked and thought to himself, _did I seriously send that to her?_

Poor girl, Krystal was. From the start, she was doomed to a miserable, monotonous job that saw her wondering what her true purpose was every single day. Fox knew she had her doubts, and sometimes wondered if she had the patience to stick around. After all, she really didn't have a purpose other than being relegated to backup reinforcements should things ever find themselves spiraling downhill fast. She wasn't a bad pilot. In fact, she had more skill than others in her same position, but the fact that she joined a renowned mercenary squadron that prided themselves on having the best pool of piloting talent before she showed up didn't let her show off that potential.

As Fox approached Kusa's door and gently rapped his digits on the ornate surface, early memories of the exotic vixen played back in his mind like a slideshow. He remembered how attracted he was to her when they first met, further cementing that guaranteed role she had in Star Fox. Years of hesitance and bottled up urges broke out of him one night, which is how he hooked the girl of his dreams once the peace in the system (for the most part) had returned. But then he started taking jobs from the CDF again just to keep his finances above water. Krystal had fallen into a lower position in his hierarchy of importance. Because of this, they had been treading rough waters as of recently, but Fox held back breaking up with her for various reasons. The integrity of Star Fox being the primary reason. But as more time passed, his restraint was being strained with constant complaints and messages like the one he had gotten earlier.

Long story short, it was all convoluted drama that Fox didn't want getting in the way of the situation before him. Things would settle down in due time. Thinking about how to, however, was a completely different animal that he didn't want to let out of its cage just yet. Right now, he was more focused on Kusa, who had just answered the door after a brief moment of silence.

As soon as the door opened, however, a gray paw flashed out of the threshold and harshly yanked him by the collar. The bottom of his boot caught the short step up, causing him to unceremoniously stumble inside with about as much grace as a dead bird. Kusa swiftly slammed the door shut after him, back pressed firmly against it as she stared at Fox's prone body.

"Did anyone follow you?" she yipped, peering out of the peephole.

"Not that I know of," Fox spoke into the hardwood floors. As he straightened himself out, the light gray vixen hesitantly peeled off of her front door, slowly regaining enough confidence to approach the other fox in the room.

"I'm really sorry for dragging you out here," Kusa said, playing the sympathy card right away.

"It's okay, I understand," Fox replied, staggering to his feet.

"Well, make yourself at home, Fox," Kusa suddenly piped up, gesturing to the loveseat resting beside the stairs. "We have a lot to discuss tonight."

* * *

[§]

* * *

"You can't be serious, boss," Panther grumbled, disbelief prevalent in his tone. "She took you and lizard out?"

"Shut it, cat," Wolf snapped back, rubbing at his sore shoulder blades. The three members of Star Wolf sat around a small circular table in one of Corneria City's underground bars, their favorite hangout spot. Underground, in this instance, should be taken literally, as this particular tavern sat comfortably in the darkest, dirtiest district of the bustling capital city, literally in the shadows of abandoned warehouses and factories. _Deep Six_ , as it was called, formed in the underground storage area of an old manufacturing plant so far off the grid that there was little to no worry about being busted by Cornerian enforcement officers. The name? It came from the factory itself: the sixth manufacturing plant in the given complex for a factory that produced components for deep space travel.

It was well past three in the morning when they got there, so the late night crowd had diminished from what it usually was. Passed out patrons lined the booths in the back of the improvised bar, while a handful of inebriated ruffians were being escorted out of the place by the intimidating bouncers. Nevertheless, Wolf and his two accomplices chose their favorite spot towards the center of the underground warehouse, tending to their respective wounds. They had since ridded themselves of their heavy tactical vests and equipment, residing in nothing more than their black undershirts and cargo pants.

"When I said that _Shira_ was dangerous, I didn't know she was lethal," Leon grimaced, unable to rotate his back even just a fraction of an inch.

"She's a trained MMA fighter," Wolf explained. "Bigger than all of us too. Surely she's got a kick to her skill."

"We should have been able to handle her at least," Leon muttered.

"I'll be the first to admit that our prowess isn't in hand-to-hand," Wolf said with flattened ears. "Tactically, we have the advantage, but holding our own in a straight up fist-fight is where we should expand. Obviously if we're gonna claim Kusa's bounty, we need to train. Adapt."

"Eh, I'll stick with tactics," Leon chuckled nervously.

"I second that," Panther added.

"I can't do everything," Wolf growled. "Leon, I respect the hell out of you, but you're two dimensional in the field. Panther, you've gotta add something to your arsenal. I'm already carrying this team on my shoulders as is."

"I'll try my best," Panther mumbled.

"If it's for the job, then sure," Powalski shrugged.

"It is," Wolf interjected. "In case you two forgot, Kusa Atkiness is the Head Commander of the Cornerian Special Forces. She has hundreds of millions of credits in information and intelligence at her disposal. Classified information, no less."

"And what do you plan on doing with this intel once you get it?" the chameleon inquired.

"Sell it to the highest bidder," Wolf said, smugly smirking at the mere thought of it. "I hear Katina has been itching to find info to expose Corneria's rotten trade policy. They'll pay a pretty price if we can give them the info they need."

"And what about Kusa?" Caroso questioned. "She's more than just a means to get classified intel."

"Exactly," he grinned with predatory intensity. "Kusa herself is worth double of whatever the information sells for. Truth be told, I couldn't care less on where she goes, just so long as someone is willing to pay. Trafficking, prostitution, slave labor; hell, whatever."

"People would pay for someone like her," Leon snickered. "Smokin' hot vixen she is."

"I'd bed her if she wasn't a whiny, needy bitch," Panther snickered.

"She's high maintenance alright," Wolf muttered with a bit of an acidic inflection. "Makes our job harder when she's being followed by the CDF. Caroso; the tracker still going?"

"Yea," answered the cat, glancing at his wrist display. "Stopped at HQ. It also stopped for a minute in a suburban neighborhood. Ten-seventy-seven Mayview Drive. Think that might be Kusa's house?"

"Mark it," Wolf requested. "We'll check it out tomorrow. We've done enough for today."

"Damn straight," said Leon, grimacing as he twisted and stretched his abused back.

"My shoulder is killing me," Wolf groaned, continuously massaging his aching muscles. Against his body's available capabilities, he picked himself out of his seat and limped towards the bar. "Whiskey always numbs the pain. Either of you guys want a…"

Wolf trailed off once his eyes wandered over to the bar section, consequently landing on a young arctic wolf behind the counter. Beauty personified, in his eyes. Even though the white _Deep Six_ emblem on her dark gray tank-top was stretched due to her cleavage, her shirt was so tight that even a male could have distorted the logo. But that alone didn't keep Wolf from staring at everything from her assets and slim, toned figure, to her pale teal eyes and shoulder-length white hair.

"I'll take a drink if that's what you're asking," Leon awkwardly spoke up.

"Shut it… I'll get there…" Wolf said in a visible trance, practically drooling as he eagerly watched the lady wolf grab a few bottles from the back shelves which allowed him to get in an unhindered, long stare at her tail and everything attached to it. Her unzipped dark denim shorts rested just under the base of her tail, and had they been any lower on her curvy hips, they would have fallen off. Luckily she had a pair of light pink panties underneath her worn shorts—which she seemed to flaunt like it was her job—otherwise she'd be beyond the code of decency, even for this place!

After bringing his hormone spike under control, Wolf made his way for the bar counter. He found an empty stool and sat down, just admiring the young wolf working in front of him. Her tail and short ponytail swayed in an inversely synchronized arc, hypnotically entrancing Wolf even more. His reality detached from his dreams as he just wondered what devil he'd have to sell his soul to just to be with her longer than just a drink.

"Well, if it isn't the big bad Wolf," the wolfess suddenly spoke up in a slightly gravely, yet tender voice, snapping Wolf's violet eyes wide open. She had since folded her fluffy arms over the counter, her rear end sticking out with her tail wagging well above her head. The self-pleasured smirk she wore on her muzzle caught the mercenary off-guard, so much so that he almost toppled out of his stool at how quick she appeared in front of him.

"I see you've heard of me?" came the oh so intelligent response of an obviously bewildered Wolf O'Donnell.

"Who hasn't?" the barkeeper replied with confidence. She scooped a cup of ice with a shallow glass and set it before Wolf. "The usual?"

"How…?" Wolf merely gapped.

"They teach the new girls the common tricks," she boasted, pouring Wolf his usual mix. After capping the stout bottle, she extended a fingerless gloved hand to him, nails painted as black as said gloves. "I'm Eilyn, by the way. Eilyn Saitl."

Wolf accepted her handshake. Surprisingly, for a young lady like herself, she had a strong grip. Wolf instantly knew why she was so lenient with her dress code; she had the strength to defend herself should she need to. And with that handshake, Wolf had already mentally added her to his list of trustworthy allies.

"So, what brought you here?" Eilyn asked with curiosity, picking up a wet glass and drying it off with the gray rag tucked into her shorts.

"Mission today went downhill," Wolf explained, a bitter taste in his mouth which he washed down with the potent alcoholic mix before him. The powerful drink didn't seem to faze him one bit, though. "We were so close too."

"You're contracted?" the wolfess asked.

"If you mean contracted by our own personal gain, then yes," O'Donnell corrected. "Our target has a big bounty in the inner circle. The Corporation had interest until she became too dangerous for the hired guns to tackle. Might blow the overall cover. That's where we, Star Wolf, step in as an independent face."

"Risky business," Eilyn hummed, smirking with half of her muzzle. "May I ask who, or is it classified?"

"Can I trust you?" Wolf questioned right back, barely even letting her finish.

A deep, quiet chuckle resounded from deep within Eilyn's throat. "You really are the Wolf O'Donnell everyone talks about. Can't trust anyone but his ring of bounty hunters. I admire the loyalty."

"That doesn't answer my question," Wolf grumbled.

The wolf saw his glass fill up with an opaque brown liquid. "I have nothing to gain ratting your team out," Eilyn answered, again stowing the bottle on the racks. She approached him and added, "Yes, you can trust me."

"You sure?"

Again, Eilyn merely chuckled. "I promise."

Wolf tilted his head, not breaking his stare on the attractive wolfess. "Swear."

Eilyn answered by holding out her gloved hand again, only this time she extended her little finger and nothing else. "On my life," she finished, nodding her head for that extra reassurance. Wolf decided to play her game, curling his own little finger around hers before pounding his clenched fist against her balled paw.

Wolf smiled, exposing sharp lupine teeth. "I like you," he blurted out with a tone of vague sarcasm, yet brimming with self-assurance. Little did she know that he had many more implications of the phrase than just expressing friendliness.

"I as well to you," Saitl said, a wink following that caused O'Donnell to blush as foreign as it sounded. She put her back to the rear shelves, swaying her hips with the gentleness of a faint, spring breeze as she organized the glasses stacked up beside her. Damn was she a looker.

A second or two passed in silence before Wolf answered in a hushed voice, "Our target is Commander Kusa."

"No shit?" a shocked, yet impressed Eilyn remarked with wide eyes, leaning back over the bar counter. "No wonder you were keeping it hush-hush. That's one hell of a target."

"No shit," Wolf echoed her from moments prior, yet his phrase expressed more acid than mirth.

"I assume you were at the MMA bout earlier today?"

His eyes shot open. "Oh, so you knew about that too?"

"Word gets around about high profile targets," Eilyn knowingly replied, brushing part of her short bangs behind her ears. "I knew because I work with one of the main eventers in the MMA scene. I'm a trainer by day, but get my fun as a bartender on the off-days."

Just as fast as Wolf's eyes widened, they consequently narrowed. "But you can't be older than twenty one, are you?"

Eilyn giggled again. "Nineteen."

"Damn," O'Donnell breathed out. "How the hell are you working here then?"

"I have my ways," she cooed, yet another wink being directed at him. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Fake ID?"

"I'm not giving away my secrets," she said with a little giggle, gently nudging Wolf's arm that propped up his head.

"There's no way they'd let you in here of all places with a counterfeit identity," he concluded. "Too underground and secret. They do a background check?"

"Yup," Eilyn said confidently, unable to stop grinning at her ongoing conversation. "And after cross-referencing five different archives and databases, they found out I was twenty-seven with a part time internship as an accountant for Aerospace Dynamics."

"Hacker," Wolf couldn't withhold his own grin, laughing at his inability to make connections.

"I prefer to say modifying secure system architecture, but in essence, yes," she smiled a predatory smile, yet mirrored the sincerity and consolation of a selfless lady.

"You've got a bit of everything," Wolf remarked, genuine truth spewing from his muzzle. "I'm gonna say it again; I really like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," the wolfess said teasingly.

"You should," he added, hopping off of the barstool. After slamming the remainder of his drink, he continued with, "You're tech smart, and an MMA trainer to boot. Who do you train?"

"Mostly mid-carders," Eilyn answered. "Gustavsen and Tassin to name a few. I might be promoted to train Amorae if I keep improving."

" _Shira_ Amorae?" the gray wolf echoed.

"Yup."

"She's the bitch that interfered with our Kusa job," growled Wolf.

"That doesn't surprise me," Eilyn admitted. "Shira's a good friend of Kusa. That's the only reason Kusa was at the match; Shira invited her to watch."

Wolf looked flabbergasted. "How in the absolute hell do you know all of this?"

"I told you, I get around," Eilyn laughed. "Words fly in the CFC. It's hard not to hear this stuff."

O'Donnell nodded. Eilyn excused herself to help a few patrons on the other end of the bar, leaving Wolf with his thoughts. Not only was she the most attractive thing of beauty he had ever seen, she had the skills and the connections to complement her. Maybe she was that missing link he needed in Star Wolf. A technician; someone to keep their cover secured even more. She'd make a perfect spy as well, with Shira's connections with Commander Kusa. Hell, if Fox hired an attractive girl in Krystal just to maintain their relationship, then he can hire Eilyn and actually give her a purpose. It was settled as quickly as the question arose.

And in the nick of time too: Eilyn had just finished tending to the others and was on her way over. He built up his confidence as she slowly trotted over, for this was the first time in quite a long time that he had actually talked to a female member of his species, and a beautiful one no less. He felt strange, indeed, as his natural charisma seemed to abandon him when he needed it most.

Yet, Wolf deflated like a punctured balloon when she slipped inside the swinging door that led to the back room. Psyching himself up seemed to become more and more difficult as minutes passed with no sign of her reappearing. Surely she would come back, but the suspense of not knowing when she would return made him anxious.

Wolf nearly jumped out of his pelt when Leon patted his shoulder to get his attention. "Whoa, hey, it's just me," the chameleon announced quietly, after seeing Wolf's temperamental shift in demeanor.

"The fuck man? Don't scare me like that," Wolf growled.

"Who was she?" Leon asked.

"New girl here," he answered. "And she's good too. She's got roundabout connections to Kusa, _and_ has experience with tech. We need her."

Leon looked skeptical right away. "You sure this is a good idea? There's a reason why we haven't hired any female members."

"Because they haven't had what it takes to get in," Wolf retorted. "She at least has a unique set of skills that you and cat don't have. Plus, if we want to claim Kusa's bounty for The Corporation, we've got to add another face to give us an advantage."

"Fine," Leon grumbled after a moment of hesitation. "Just… be careful."

"No promises," he snickered, elbowing Powalski as he stepped away. He turned back to the bar, again being startled as he almost butted muzzled with Eilyn. This time, he actually fell out of his stool.

Eilyn laughed with the mirthfulness of a little girl. "Sorry, Wolf; I couldn't help myself."

All O'Donnell could do in response was laugh along, for he quickly realized that he couldn't even get mad at her, let alone be angry at her for scaring him.

"So, I couldn't help but overhear," she started off, biting her lower lip as she poured Wolf yet another glass. "I'm glad you think I could be a valuable asset, but you'll have to make it worth my while if you want me aboard. I don't particularly care for The Corporation that much, but for you, Wolf, I could make an exception."

"I really don't want to force you into this situation," Wolf admitted. "I was almost ten years older than you before I started working above the law. Hell, you weren't even _thought of_ when I started."

"No way you're _that_ old."

"I'm over double your age, so…" Wolf withheld a sheepish chuckle. "Hopefully that doesn't make it awkward…"

"Well, like I said, you'll have to make it worth my while," Eilyn said, folding her arms over the counter. "If The Corporation is paying huge for Kusa, I want a piece."

"Done," said Wolf, then nodded.

"Good," Eilyn smiled. "Mind showing me my new teammates?"

Wolf smirked once more. "Damn I like you."


	3. Chapter 3

_As before, I'm tackling "FAQ's" in reviews here for all to see. Saves me some time after all._

 _The biggest one seems to be why Kusa decided to go home instead of back to a protected HQ. I thought I depicted an implied answer in Wolf's scene, but I guess I can reiterate here. Did you notice that Leon's tracking program marked an address that they only assumed was Kusa's address—which indeed it was—to check later? She's a "celebrity" commander, her address wouldn't be a known fact for someone of her status and… shall we say, value._

 _Wow, there's quite a bit of unanimous support for the new dynamic between the "One True Pairing™" which is both shocking and relieving to see. Relieving, because my intention is to take this angle and run with it. Sure, I may throw in a curveball or two just to add some incentive to stay for some viewers that loathe this development. Plus, I myself detest Command, so a new angle to negate that mess is welcome for some._

 _The Corporation is a tricky beast to depict, so unfolding its enigmatic presence will take time and patience. But its reward will be satisfying in the end._

 _As is the Corporation, Eilyn is a backstory and a half to completely unravel her character, but she'll be here to stay as well. I can't give_ _ **all**_ _my secrets away now. Where's the incentive to stay if I do?_

 _Yes, Sheppard, I think I managed to make that scene vague enough to cheat the rating, and this chapter will be no exception. The T rating of this is—from the early looks of it—strained, to say the least. If you are uncomfortable with non-explicit suggestive actions and comments, as well as vulgar vocabulary (I'm looking at you Shira; you'll see what I mean soon), I may advise against continuing. I have no intention to take the leap to a Mature rating this early on, but the content itself is a bit edgy and may be uncomfortable to a younger audience, so I'd advise to read with discretion. Other than that, I have nothing else to make known. Please enjoy._

 _[Sierra]_

* * *

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 **Chapter Three**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

* * *

Fox made yet another detached glance to his wrist-com; the dull, holographic display indicating it was well past three in the morning. Yet, all bodily signs showed that he wasn't the slightest bit fatigued, nor did he showcase any desire to sleep. His attentiveness rested in the ongoing conversation between himself and Kusa, for their discussion as of now has been nothing but information heavy, but not in a boring way. In fact, this was the most intrigued and attentive Fox has ever been sitting through a discourse of an assignment.

Yet, after the first hour of conversation that started when Fox and Kusa finally decided to talk, the former fox's deficit in holding his attention began to surface. Granted, he was taking in his assignment well, and was understanding it as he should, but speaking on a purely professional standpoint, Fox's juvenile attention span was being tested and strained.

"So, just to go over it one last time," Kusa started off, poking at the paperwork sprawled out on her low table. "You're not being contracted for the CDF, although their name will appear on the contract. Granted, they'll be working with you for a bit, but overall, your team will be with me. Like I said… I don't know how many times before, but I'm really starting to get nervous with all of these threats and attempts at my life, and I don't feel comfortable just standing by the CDF everywhere. It makes me look out of place with a team of soldiers following me around."

"This is where I come in," Fox commented.

"Exactly," Kusa smiled quite tenderly, contrary to her usual forced or sarcastic smiles. "You're better than most of the CDF, and you blend in better than them too. Hell, all of Star Fox shows that! I'd like your entire team to participate, but if I can only hire you for the time being, I can accept that."

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're commissioning me as protection?" Fox asked.

"Well, in essence, I guess you're right," Kusa mumbled with a bit of prevalent embarrassment. "I don't want to take any more chances though. I'm lucky to get around anymore, mainly because I stick out like a sore thumb when I'm out in public. You especially, Fox, could pass off as a close friend, _and_ double as protection."

Fox merely nodded. "Okay. I can get behind this. How long would this last?"

"As long as you want to keep getting paid," Kusa grinned. "I don't plan on having the target on my back disappear anytime soon, unfortunately, but as long as I'm out in a public space that could be dangerous for me, then I'll be in need of your help. With that comes benefits, of course. The pay should be nice too."

"Sorry if I seem greedy, but how much do you plan on paying us?" Fox inquired.

"I don't blame you for asking," the vixen stated, eyes picking out a page in her pile. "The CDF grants me a set monthly pay, and since it's a combined contract, I can set what I pay out and the CDF as a whole can match it for a gross check. Then again, I've got to crunch numbers and figure out how I can avoid the government's high taxation, which that in and of itself can cause issues if it doesn't work…"

Fox started to tune out her mindless rambling as she started writing numbers out on some of the papers in an attempt to work out the math. Adding to that, Fox's attention drifted from the conversation to her herself. All this time, he never really understood who Kusa was until he actually held a conversation with her. Her outside personality in the presence of media and her colleagues alike contracted with her demeanor behind closed doors so severely that he at first thought she had two separate personalities meshed into one body. She was nothing but a gentle, careful leader for their entire conversation. Maybe she insisted keeping her entitled persona to ward off a deity-like following in public…

Her words were incoherent blobs of her soothing voice at this point, for Fox was too captivated by the vixen before him to process her sentences. It registered for Fox that Kusa was incredibly young for her position. She might've only been fourteen years old at the start of the Great War for Lylat, which would put her four years younger than Fox. Even with the tiny age gap, he found himself descending into a state of bliss the more he stared at her. Just the sight of her so relaxed set his senses ablaze. It didn't help that she was wearing skimpy nightclothes that Fox had the sneaking suspicion she didn't want them on anymore. She sat cross-legged, with one hand writing numbers and the other picking at her shirt and tugging at the elastic of her panties. The waistline of her bottom delicates were looming dangerously close to her hips, and it wouldn't be long before the fabric's intentions were neglected entirely.

"So I think it'll come down to that," her voice finally registered in his ears, jerking him out of his dreams. "That, along with the bonus of a new interstellar transport ship to function as your new mothership should be enough. I know how you lost your old one to the Aparoids."

"I still can't believe you're just giving a brand new ship to us," Fox said, faintly shaking his head.

"I know how easy it is to keep your team mobile instead of keeping them on Corneria," Kusa grinned. "It's a gift from me to you for your services after all. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you, Kusa," he said with heartfelt gratitude, her name mindlessly rolling right off of his tongue. "This is a great opportunity. You can count me in." He grabbed the foremost page of the dense contract residing on the table, proceeding to sign his name, signature, and initials wherever applicable. After dotting the final signature, he flattened out the contract and set it back on the table. To show off, he crossed his legs and folded his arms behind his head, humorously remarking, "I'm officially your bitch."

"Aww, Foxy," Kusa giggled, swiping the contract up and stowing it away in a safe drawer in her nightstand. She glanced at the analog clock on the wall; it had just struck four in the morning. "Oh my goodness it's late. I'm so sorry for keeping you here so long. I'll call one of the on-duty officers and have him take you back home."

"Actually," Fox impulsively interrupted, stopping Kusa from rising to her feet. Curiously, the gray arctic vixen tilted her head at him, her ears and heather gray hair flopping along with it. Fox tried to continue, but froze at the sight of her adorable face.

"What is it?" she asked gently, leaning forward.

Fox began to drown in a whirlwind of substantial thought. His main intention, the one that was most prevalent the more he sat in contemplative silence, was to decline her offer and ask if there was a place he could stay here, but when he thought of that more and more, the more Krystal popped into his bubble of thought. He couldn't betray her; that wasn't him. But what was he to do? His flame with her was dulling into a fading ember the more fights and arguments they engaged in, and this message she sent earlier only added evidence to it.

But what prompted him to go ahead with his question was the reminder that he was his own person too, and he didn't have to suffer through a boring, frustrating relationship if he didn't want to. With a layer of hesitance as thick as Corneria's crust, Fox started, "I was wondering if I could… you know… stay here for the night?"

In unison, Kusa's eyes and muzzle gradually widened in elation.

"I mean, I live far away, and I don't have to go anywhere tomorrow," Fox continued, clawing at the back of his neck. "If you don't want me to, I can leave–"

"Oh, no no no," Kusa interrupted, bolting up from her loveseat. "I don't mind at all. Do you need anything? My shower is upstairs, but I don't think you brought anything."

"That's okay," Fox said with a wave of his hand. "I'll be fine without it. You have a guest room?"

"No," Kusa admitted, yet she didn't withhold a little smirk that fell upon Fox's eyes. "But I don't want you to sleep out on the couch either. You wouldn't mind rooming with a pretty vixen like me, would you?"

"I'd be stupid to say no," were the words that seemingly slipped through Fox's teeth without a mere moment of hesitation or thought. As soon as he said it, a dull ache coursed through his chest, but all pain alleviated when he saw the wink she gave him. For a young girl like herself, she sure knew how to flirt and do it well. Even Fox, who rarely had his heart warmed by other women in these certain instances, felt heat comparable to a volcanic eruption detonate at her suggestive actions.

"Aww, you're so sweet, Fox," she wholeheartedly smiled at him, showing pearly white vulpine teeth. She stepped over to her narrow staircase, tail beckoning the other fox to follow, and he did. Even so, she had already scaled the stairs by the time Fox began his ascent.

Fox watched as a light from one of the rooms upstairs provided a miniscule amount of light for him to work with, for he had flicked the switch at the bottom of the stairs to plunge the entire bottom floor into darkness. He quietly and slowly trailed after her, internally waging a war with his better conscience the more he got closer to the commander's bedroom. He knew that as soon as he stood in the arc of yellow light seeping through her open doorframe, escaping a night with her would be impossible. But, by the same token, curiosity overpowered his conscience, allowing him to inch ever so closer to Kusa's room.

The slightly dimmed light emanating from her bedroom illuminated the opposite wall, allowing Fox to distinguish a closed door that most likely led into a "nonexistent" guest room. Arranged in a neat line from the top of the stairs all the way to the wooden doorframe were framed pictures in lavishly beautiful metallic frames. There was one of her, minus ten years, with a nearly identical clone of herself overshadowed by a female gray fox and a mountain of a light gray arctic wolf. That same wolf was in the very next picture, wearing the iconic crimson CDF suit and cap. He recognized that face, but… was he really Kusa's father? If so… she had a right to express herself out in public in the manner she did.

Brigadier General Viekko Atkiness. The surname surely fit, as did the fur color and personality with the little commander-that-could Kusa. Unfortunately, the most intimidating officer ever enlisted in the CDF had been dead for over four years now, reported missing after a Venom reconnaissance mission went sour. Maybe that, combined with her heritage played a key role for her rise to power. After all, she did have the surname and natural charisma that rivaled even her father's.

Ignoring family connections, Fox glazed over the rest of the pictures, mostly comprised of Kusa and that same carbon copy vixen from the first picture. He came to the conclusion that Kusa had a sister, possibly a twin considering the likeness between the both of them was borderline spooky, let alone uncanny. Considering Kusa's position, explicitly stating that she had a sister so close to her could endanger her entire family, so it was no surprise that this was the first time Fox had even seen a picture of her. Judging by the pictures, they looked incredibly fond of each other; most of the framed pictures showing her and "her sister" doing normal things with content smiles on their muzzles. Admittedly, it was cute and heartwarming to see.

Fox's thoughts continued to swirl as he stepped up to the threshold, but his immediate mind snapped back into working order as soon as his eyes looked inside. As Fox was expecting something much more serious inside considering the family Kusa was brought up in, he was taken aback with a sense of shock when a vibrant room cluttered with multifarious colors all illuminated by the light hanging from the ceiling reached his eyes. The lightly colored hardwood floors were drowned by an ellipse of rosy pink shag encompassing the center of the bedroom, obscured by stray clothes and blankets. White dressers and wardrobes stacked with novelties and trinkets, all swarmed by piles of colorful fleece blankets, thick pillows, and cute stuffed animals took up two of the three available corners, and in the back left corner, pressed up against the wall where the door was hinged onto, was the bed, encompassed with an upholstered border comparable to a couch armrest and a headboard filled with even more adorable decorations. Kusa's knees were pressed into the upholstered border as she pulled her pillow off, stuffing another pillow against the wall before setting hers back down.

"Sorry, my room's a bit of a mess," she giggled, tossing a lavender colored plush blanket on top of the sky blue sheets, which—surprisingly—wasn't as bad of an eyesore as one would think. Even so, the many vibrant and contrasting colors stuffed into one small room started to make Fox's head spin. But, as the shock settled, he realized that it reflected her young personality, and, in fact, he thought it fit her very well.

"Wow," an awe-struck Fox muttered.

"My bed is only a full size, but I don't take up much space," Kusa continued, frantically trying to arrange the bed in the most appealing, yet comfortable way possible. She tossed a few spare pillows against the wall, covering them up with another plush blanket before examining her product. She smiled, nodded at her construction, and then turned to Fox. "Look good? Hah, you don't even need to answer; I know you love it."

Fox chuckled and played along. "Caught me red-handed," he remarked, shutting her door behind him. Just now did he notice numerous posters of bands and other celebrities tacked into her walls, seemingly completing Kusa's juvenile paradise. One poster stuck out to him in particular: a full body picture of a large wolf hybrid tacked into the wall next to the dark navy curtains shielding her windows. A menacing glare was pictured on her face, immediately giving away her identity. "That's Shira, the fighter, right? The one you just saw?"

"Yea," she smiled, looking up at the poster, pointing out the silver signature on the bottom in the process. "She's a close friend of mine. She gifted me the tickets to come see, and I was supposed to meet up with her after the fact, but we ended up getting chased out."

"Oh."

"I think I should give her a call tomorrow and explain why."

Fox merely nodded.

"So, surely you're not sleeping in that?" Kusa blurted out, her eyes combing over Fox's iconic flight suit and jacket. Fox himself looked down at his attire before letting out a weak chuckle.

"Well, I really didn't plan on staying here, so…" his hand unconsciously drifted to the back of his neck.

"Aww, come on, Fox," the vixen swayed her hips in a lustful and provocative manner, hoping to incite a few instinctive mentalities that she knew he had. "If you're going to be my bodyguard, if you will, you need to learn how to fit in with me. And what a better way to start?"

Her aggressive, yet reserved means of convincing Fox caused a rush of adrenaline to surge through him. He had to take it one of two ways: either run with it or take her up on her very enticing offer. Judging by how she threatened to puncture her lower lip with her suggestive biting, she wanted the latter and wanted it bad. It dawned on him that the only time he had seen a vixen so hungry in this way was when Krystal was in the middle of her heat. Of course, Fox was able to make that connection right away, but it was still a surprise nonetheless.

An awkward silence encompassed both of the foxes, each one harboring their respective reasons for staying that way. If it wasn't apparent enough for either one, they had already jumped the fence of showcasing evident attraction, but fessing up to that fact was a bridge in comparison to the aforementioned fence. Fox's hesitance predominantly manifested itself in his subconscious worry of how Krystal would react. Every time he tried to stare at Kusa, his thoughts would warn him of consequences as if Krystal's telepathy was intruding him here. Even with his immediate thoughts telling him to go though and terminate his informal relationship with Krystal as soon as he could, the worry of causing an unfixable schism between him and the rest of his team restrained him from impulsively agreeing to the flirty vixen's desires.

Kusa didn't advance any more than she did because even she could see Fox was conflicted with himself. She couldn't tell why: even when she spared a glance to his hands, she didn't locate any rings residing on his digits. That still didn't stop her from clarifying. Bashfully, Kusa gently gripped her wrist and took a tentative step forward. "Wait, Fox… You're not… seeing anyone, are you?"

Fox withheld a cringe. Now he really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He could lie about Krystal and foster a new relationship he could actually have interest in, or deny a chance at reinvigorating his love life and suffer through the monotony of Krystal's borderline obsessive actions. Surely the short-term gain for the former would be astronomical, but that same conscience from before told him that it would be a bad idea in the long run. However, the more he became entranced with her light brown eyes curiously staring back at him like an innocent child, the more the short-term and long-term gains seemed to blur into one another, the short-term benefits reaping the victory.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything if you are," Kusa added on, ears falling flat. "But, even if you are…" she assumed a rather devious smirk, one that set Fox's senses ablaze. "…what's one night going to do? I'll keep quiet if you do, Foxy."

Fox had no other option, even though it pained him to even think of the words he was about to say. "No, I'm not seeing anyone," he choked out, managing to keep his tone level in order to not appear suspicious, even though he felt his tongue being dipped in acid as he spoke.

Kusa purred from deep within her throat. "Well, in that case," she started off, biting her lip once more as her clawed thumbs dug into the waistline of her undergarments. "Surely you wouldn't mind if I dropped these off? The elastic on them always irritates my fur."

"You're awfully flirty, Miss Atkiness," Fox cooed back. Truthfully, he loved every minute of it. The heartache he experienced when pushing Krystal aside was quickly dulling into a mere tug at his heart, but at the moment, he truly couldn't care less. Even so, he needed to slow the advances before one unplanned thing led to another of the same type. "But don't you think we should take some time to start off slow?"

Kusa's devious smile simmered into a small grin that seemed much more welcoming than the former's prior intimidation. "You're right," she admitted. "Sorry, I'm just…"

"That time of the month?" Fox inquired. Kusa immediately began blushing with vibrant intensity, giving Fox the answer he needed. "I understand. My…" he trailed off to find the right words, inadvertently swallowing to make the words come out. "My ex was that way."

"It's pretty bad," Kusa mumbled, gently sitting down on her bedside.

"So I've heard," Fox answered back, himself stepping forward to sit aside the vixen. Immediately afterward, Kusa leaned over and gently laid her head on top of Fox's shoulder, grinning all the while. Fox didn't reply, opting to stay silent as the both of them breathed in their combining scents just to get an introductory grasp at the commitment they were already in the process of outlining.

The whole situation felt strange for the fox, but it wasn't completely weird as to invoke an awkward aura in her presence. After all, their fathers were friends back when the both of them were still alive and working, which destined them to become friends from the start. Sure, Fox was a shy mess, and Kusa was… Kusa… but it was their similar distaste for their family members being enlisted in such a dangerous occupation that brought them closer together. Sure, fast forward nearly a decade and they could consider themselves hypocrites, but had it not been for their adolescent complaints, they'd be complete strangers and nowhere near this unfolding situation.

Fox fell victim to the vixen's intoxicating aura, letting his head fall limp on top of Kusa's. "Is this how we're going to be out in the open?"

"If you want to," Kusa answered. "If you want to keep it friendly, that's okay. If you want to go further, I can do that too. It's all up to you."

Fox hummed. "Let's start it slow. Don't want to attract too much attention."

"I understand," Kusa said.

Well, she didn't, really. Not the whole picture. Fox only requested it so that he could have time to break it to Krystal calmly and collectively. Testing the waters with this alone was enough to make his stomach churn. He didn't want to be labeled as a traitor to his first love, abandoning her to the wolves, but breaking it to her gently was the only way to escape his dilemma.

Tomorrow, he would. Today, however, he had a comfortable bed and a beautiful vixen eagerly calling his name.

* * *

[§]

* * *

The incessant rhythm of resounding thumps, the faint, steady hissing stream of sand seeping out of worn gashes, and the low roar of heavy breathing intertwined with growls and grunts filled Shira's ears as she continued to abuse her inanimate opponent. The leather bag suspended from a steel chain hanging from the rafters shook and swayed in protest from the physical assault as it slowly relived itself of its ample amount of sand.

Sweat beaded in amongst her thick pelt of fur, matting it and sticking it to her clammy skin, but just like her match earlier, she didn't let it slow her down any. In fact, she only tightened her thinly padded fighting gloves before working her bag even more. The once thick and unbreakable heavy bag looked as though an angry cat had been set upon it with how many slices and gashes were prevalent all over the surface. The material itself looked worn and weak, with grayish discolorations appearing on the blackened leather. That didn't stop an angry Shira from assaulting the poor bag with everything she had. Nasty jabs, powerful hooks, and stiff kicks brutalized the bag, and the bag itself seemed to groan out at each hit with how it let loose a resounding boom upon impact.

Her long, dark gray, light gray streaked hair was pulled back into a ponytail that mimicked the composition and coloration of her own tail, which swayed in wide arcs in response to her choreographed movements on the mat. Dancing amongst the grains of sand accumulating on the vinyl padded floor, giving her the illusion of lessened friction and lessened balance, her bare feet hopped and slid around while she continuously kept her bag in her eyesight. The grainy mat provided an interesting dynamic to her training, but that made it all the more challenging, just as she liked it.

The training spot she was in was her go-to gym. Even if it was well past hours, it didn't stop an aggravated Shira from setting up shop in order to touch up on her skills. The only lights on in the entire spacious training gym were above the mat her punching bag resided over, and the benches directly behind her. It was so late at night that there was absolutely no light from the windows sitting at ground level from the underground training facility seeping inside. She was alone with her training, just how she liked it. And because of this fact, she allowed herself to gain a bit of an unorthodox advantage in training.

Draped across the illuminated bench behind her rested her former training clothes, as well as her delicates. She had removed them a long while ago, after her body heat and sweat accumulation rendered her clothes unwearable. Since she was alone down here anyway, she allowed herself to continue fighting her bag in nothing but the fur covering every inch of her towering body. The exhilarating rush of cool air she'd receive on her sensitive fur when she'd charge her bag kept her going for this long, for she had been wailing away for so long that she couldn't remember what _day_ it was, let alone the time. Nevertheless, her damp fur all over her voluptuous, toned body was in full view for whoever decided to stumble upon it. Luckily, as far as she knew, she had hours of available training time left before the gym opened up again.

She launched a heavy right hand that rocked the bag and shuttered the ceiling. That sound alone gave her the incentive to take a brief break to avoid blowing a hole through the rafters too soon. Panting heavily with her long pink tongue drooped over her lower jaw, Shira backed away from the trembling bag and sat back down on the bench. Two bottles of icy water were lined up on the floor in front of her spot, as was a nearly empty bottle of her favorite purple-colored sports drink. She grabbed the foremost bottle of water, shot a stream down her muzzle that sent cool shivers all the way down her throat, then doused her face and midriff to cool herself off. After her face dripped with watery sweat for a few seconds, she glanced to her right, shrugged, and then picked her pale blue panties off the bench to wipe her face dry.

Soon thereafter, she casted them aside and was back to work on her punching bag. The ease of working without the restriction of clothes brought out the best in her. She could let her most private areas breathe, essential to keeping cool and composed in a rigorous training session as such. Her average, yet shapely and fleshy breasts were allowed to gently sway with her bouncy, energetic movements, improving her functionality as a whole because of not worrying about them sticking to her chest. Her hips and legs also improved in mobility, so she could utilize every ounce of her flexibility without clothing hindering it. Granted, the boost was only slight and unnoticeable to the average person, but for Shira, a whole new world opened up for her.

She momentarily stopped when the bag swayed a bit more than she liked, inadvertently brushing up on her bust. Backing away from the abused bag, she began to massage a tender, bruised spot on her right breast. _Bitch punched me right in the boob_ , she thought with a minor hint of malice, referencing her fight with Zara earlier. Even with bitterness lingering in her thoughts, she did have to give credit where credit was due, as her injury gave her a legitimate excuse to toy around with herself. It still hurt, however, but her gentle touch was all she needed to comfort that faintly throbbing ache.

Once the pain simmered down to comfortable levels, she reproached her bag with a rough slap as to punish it for hurting her. With that out of her already frayed system of nerves, she bent her knees and spread her feet apart to size up the bag. For some inexplicable reason, the hypnotic sway of the abused leather bag irritated her even more. It looked like it was taunting her. That alone set her off, so she delivered stiff shot after stiff shot in hopes to alleviate her anger and wipe the implied taunting aura off the bag in question.

Shira's breathing quickened. Two more left jabs. Her heart began pumping more intensely. A right, then a left. Her punches began inflicting more and more force until she no longer had control of her bodily system. Right. Left. Right again. A _bone rattling_ right. A ferocious knee. Right, right, right, _right_. She just kept letting her fists fly. Booming punches. Thunderous knees. A sickening left kick. Left. Right. Right! **_HISSS—_**

Her red curtain only diminished after she had launched such a brutal roundhouse kick that it ripped the bag straight off the chain, spilling sand everywhere. The hiss of the spilling sand woke her out of her trance, but she still stood with a heaving chest and boiling blood, staring at the broken bag with an odd sense of pleasure.

Sweat dripped off of her body and intermixed with the sand on the ground while she listened for the sound of the pouring sand to cease. As soon as it did, the realization of legitimately murdering the poor punching bag washed over her and gave her a feeling of success, but also a vague hint of distaste as she knew she was going to have to clean all of that sand up. Wiping sweat away from her matted face fur, she approached the mangled mess that was the former punching bag. Forcefully, Shira placed one of her hind paws against the bag and kicked it towards the back wall, leaving a steady stream of sand in her wake. As soon as she successfully pushed the leather bag out of her way, she stepped around the sand-covered mat and sat back down on the bench.

Long, deep breaths accompanied the rising and falling of her chest as she laid back on the narrow bench, head resting on her wadded nylon training shorts. Once again, she scooped up one of her water bottles and completely drenched her body from head to tail, but not before shooting a stream into her awaiting muzzle. As the icy water penetrated her thick pelt and soothed her skin, she disinterestedly stared up at the rafters, waiting for her adrenaline to settle down.

How she wished that bag was that damn wolf that interrupted her rest and stunned her. He _and_ his lizard accomplice. There was no reason for them to be at the event. Yet, it was better for her that they advanced when they did, because she'd have killed them on the spot if they interfered and cost her the victory. Nevertheless, it was still infuriating that they had the audacity to challenge a champion and end up victorious in the long run, even if she did slam that wolf through the table, or fuck that lizard over with the chair. She just wished that they didn't have on those damn masks, otherwise she could find them and teach them not to mess with her ever again.

She sat up after regaining a more comfortable breathing rate. Once again, she grabbed her bottom undergarments and wiped her face dry for the most part, casting them aside with a careless flick of her wrist after she was done. A realization hit her that she'd probably have to put them back on once she was done training, but a rather lewd thought crossed her mind at the same time that she really didn't need them, so long as she had pants to cover her up. But, those were nasty too…

While thinking of her attire dilemma, she twisted her leg up and used the back of her paw to brush sand off of her foot. It was a bit problematic, she had to dig her claws through her fur to get the majority of it out. She did the same with her other foot too, taking the time to massage bruises on her legs as well. Never had she ever been so battered after a fight before. She'd probably have to take some painkillers after her training session, but right now, she still wasn't finished.

A few minutes later, Shira managed to hook up another punching bag to the hook suspended from the rafters. After testing it with a push and a few gentle jabs, she set back to work, pummeling it with violent punches and brutalizing kicks. At her rate, it wouldn't be long before she abused _this_ bag enough to tear it in half as well.

Underneath the booming sound of her punches came the faint click of a deadbolt unlatching, followed by the dull jingle of keys. Shira didn't notice it at all, for she was much too busy wailing on her helpless opponent. A single set of boots tapping against the concrete floors were drowned out by the resounding thumps echoing throughout the empty gym, so the hybrid fighter only registered the faint noise as reverberations of her heavy strikes. Even as the faint whirr of the floodlights overhead warming up upon activation reached her ears, she refused to let up on her bag.

"Shira?" a rather high pitched male voice spoke above the loud booms of her attacks. "That you?"

She didn't respond, opting to thrust her feet against the bag to produce even louder booms of impact. She knew who it was, but it wasn't enough of an incentive to stop her attacks.

"Shira," that same voice spoke again, much clearer than before. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye: a striped hyena that—although he himself had a substantial amount of muscle mass to his six-foot body framework—looked small compared to the panting collie hybrid. A blend of pale tan and black fur adorned his mass, especially where a short, spoked up mohawk started from the top of his forehead all the way down beyond his collar. His ears were perked in confusion as he peered into the main training room, a composite baseball bat gripped in one of his paws.

Again, Shira payed him no attention, although she did recognize his presence by flicking her wrist with her middle digit extended, not losing any momentum in her string of blows.

"Shira, it's six in the mornin'," the hyena said, the sound of the composite bat clattering to the ground filling her ears. "You been here all night?" ...No response, only more fists being thrown against the bag. "Aw, come on Amorae! You ripped up _another_ one of my bags?! That's _three_ this season!"

This time, Shira couldn't withhold a faint smirk from appearing, two more consecutive right and left combinations being thrusted at the leather bag.

"And where are your clothes? I–I–I mean, not that it's an issue, I just– I, er… I know you always complain about 'em, but this is still a public gym, ya know?"

Shira finished a brutal combination of spinning kicks before extending her arms to steady the bag. Breathing heavily, she trudged back to the bench and sat back down, spreading just about every single part of her out in order to cool herself off. After tearing off the plastic cap of her sports drink and slamming the rest of its contents, she let her muzzle arc skywards.

"Came here to blow off steam," she spoke firmly, her voice gravelly and hoarse while it intermixed with her quiet gasping for air. "And you can stop trying to hide the boner, Ryder; it just makes it look worse."

The hyena, Ryder, with cheeks blazing red and mane sticking outward, sheepishly retracted his crossed hands from his crotch. "Sorry," he spat out as if it poisoned him from the inside to say it. He looked away, his baby blue eyes falling upon the trail of sand covering the floor behind the punching bag's mat. He sighed. "I'll get the broom."

"Sorry about that," Shira said, again using her panties to clean her face off. As Ryder came back with a long garage broom, she snapped her fingers at him to get his attention. "I'll take care of the mess," she said, tossing her delicates at the hyena. "You take care of _that_ mess."

Ryder let a goofy smile crease his muzzle as he held up her underwear. "God, that's hot…" he muttered under his breath, and to his relief the fighter did not pick up on it. "I don't know how you suppose I take care of this," he spoke louder, waving her panties in the air.

"You have a washer," Amorae said over the scraping of bristles on the concrete.

"Broke the other day," Ryder corrected. "Been goin' down to the cleaners on Sixth and Fairview to wash out towels 'n shit."

Shira sighed. "Then, just… dry 'em out or somethin'. I don't care."

Ryder frowned as he stepped over to her bench and picked up the rest of her discarded clothing. "Somethin' buggin' ya, champ?"

Again, the collie hybrid replied with a breathy sigh tainted with frustration and exhaustion. "Those two _dipshits_ ruined my night," she growled. "They fucked me up, and I never got to see Kusa after the fight. That's the whole reason I brought her there."

"Eh, it's best to let the CDF take care of 'em," he remarked. "It sucks, I get that, but I'd focus on your next bout in a month. You're defending the title again in Garrison. Haven't picked an opponent yet."

"Fine," the hybrid breathed, pushing the sand into a pile towards the broken bag. Meanwhile, the floodlights above began to fill the entire training facility in white light, which intermixed with the rising sun and its warm colors outside. She finished up cleaning most of the sand into a pile, but she would have done more if the job didn't become so tedious to her strained nerves. She had to stop and sit back down on the bench, again picking leftover sand out of her hind paws.

The fighter then pulled her hair out of its ponytail, allowing her voluminous, damp locks to flow and cascade down to her shoulder blades. She allowed her head to breathe by shaking her hair out, but then put it right back into a ponytail moments later when she realized how nasty and greasy it looked. Plus, she wanted to dry it out, but Ryder had stolen her underclothes and had taken them into a different room, not allowing her to dry off more since she hated the feel of his towels.

Ryder came back a minute later, carrying a pair of navy blue boxer briefs and a white tank top. "These came outta Blasko's locker," he said, tossing them to Shira. "They're clean."

Amorae nodded in approval, but set them beside her instead of tossing them on. "I don't suppose your shower is broken too," she remarked with a tiny, smug smirk.

"Wouldn't hurt to try," he said in his own snarky voice. "I'll get'cha a towel."

"Your towels suck," she blurted out, twisting her neck to get it to emit deep pops. "Swipe a shirt from Ekman's locker. He's always got the soft ones."

Ryder chuckled.

"Hey, quit your laughing," she grunted, expressing a glare without any sense of content. "Does it look like I'm tryin'a be funny? I'm fuckin' hurt here."

"Easy, champ," the hyena breathed. "What hurts?"

Shira begrudgingly sat back down when he insisted she do so. "Tweaked my leg," she growled through clenched teeth, assuming a vice grip on her left knee in an attempt to alleviate the mind-numbing pain resulting from her simmering adrenaline. "Bruises fuckin' _everywhere_ ," she added, using her other hand to point out soft spots on her legs and arms.

"You take anythin' yet?" Ryder asked, working his thumbs into Shira's injured knee.

"I was going to if it didn't stop," the hybrid answered.

"Here," he pulled out a sheet of tiny tablets from his back pocket, popping two of them into Shira's awaiting hand. She nodded and grabbed her water bottle, but didn't take the painkillers right away.

"My boob hurts too," she commented, Ryder's ears perking up instantly. "You're the trainer; work your magic."

Ryder needed no second invitation, his fingers mindlessly went to work at a gentle massage he conducted with a guilty sense of pleasure doing so. "So, how are you gonna take care of this when I'm gone?"

Shira's open mouth and closed eyes suddenly inversed each other. "Wait, what?" she inquired.

Ryder sighed. "CDF offered me a deal to instruct hand-to-hand combat classes for cadets. I'm sorry, champ, but I had to take their deal."

"Great," she huffed, a frown bending the ends of her muzzle. "Just great." She pushed away the hyena's fingers, then quickly downed her two painkillers. Once she had a full gasp of air, she stood up and stamped over to her punching bag. "Just fuckin' _great!_ " she snapped, launching one of the hardest right hand strikes Ryder had ever seen into the punching bag that sent a loud boom coursing through the gym.

"Shira," he spoke up softly.

"Who's gonna be my fuckin' trainer now?" a livid Shira barked. "I'm in my fuckin' prime, Ryder! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Did you notice that you came _this_ close to losin' your fight last night?" Ryder shot back, placing an infinitesimal amount of space between his thumb and index digit. "You're amazin', champ. You're the best fighter I've ever seen. But've you noticed that these new girls comin' up from the mid-card to challenge you are gettin' more difficult for you? It's because my tactics I've been teachin' ya are outdated."

"They work," Shira argued.

"But they won't in another year or two," Ryder countered. "You need someone better than me. That's why I decided to accept the CDF's instructing job."

Shira just shook her head. "I'm gettin' in the shower," she grunted.

"Champ," the hyena gently called out, chasing after her. "Listen, I understand that this is a shock for ya. I've been trainin' ya throughout your entire fightin' career. I brought you from the openin' fight all the way up to a main event champion on the grandest stage. But I can't change my style, and you need to adapt. I'm doing this for you, Shira. I'm sorry."

"Don't patronize me," she retorted. "If you're just gonna abandon me when I need you most, then go ahead. Leave. I don't fuckin' care. I'll train myself."

"No," Ryder argued, grabbing Shira's arm to spin her around. "No, you can't. Which is why I already took the liberty to hire a new trainer for ya."

"Whoever it is, I don't want 'em," the hybrid grunted, pulling her arm free in order to step into the open shower area. She stepped over to a handle and activated the water, the shower head above spraying lukewarm water onto her after a moment of buildup.

" ** _She_** is who ya need, champ," the coyote stated, shamelessly staring at the collie/wolf hybrid dousing herself down. "Her name's Eilyn. And before you get up in my balls about how ya don't want a replacement, hear me out. She's been fightin' on the independent circuit since she was sixteen! And she was so good that she ended up gettin' kicked out for competitive reasons, 'cuz she was winnin' every bout she was in."

Shira didn't answer, instead opting to lather herself in soap as suds began covering her body.

"CFC won't let her fight professionally 'cuz of her age," Ryder added. "She trains fighters now. Shira, seriously, you _need_ her on your side."

"But what if I say no?" Shira countered, cranking her head around so fast that her sopping wet hair flailed around the back of her head.

Ryder shrugged. "Good luck winnin' your next bout, then."

Shira angrily shut off the water after the soap rinsed out of her fur and disappeared down the drain, while she let the excess water stream down her soaked fur. She shook herself off to eliminate most of the dripping before approaching the coyote. "Where's Ekman's shirt?"

"Just use mine," Ryder muttered, unzipping his hooded jacket. He casted that aside, then pulled up the bottom of his black shirt with the emblem of the training facility printed on. Even when she was genuinely pissed at him, Shira couldn't refrain from making a glance to Ryder's low-resting pants and toned midsection as he slipped his shirt off.

"That's sexy," Shira blurted out, using the hyena's shirt to wipe away the remaining water from her pelt. "I'm gonna miss seeing that."

"Just because I'm acceptin' a CDF job doesn't mean I'm leavin' here," Ryder stated. "You can come back here when I'm off work, and I can train with ya for old time's sake. But you gotta work with Eilyn too."

Shira sighed in discontent. "I'm better than someone who deserves a rookie trainer," she groveled, taking an extra moment to inhale the hyena's natural scent in order to calm her ablaze nerves. "She won't be able to keep up."

"You don't know that," Ryder argued. "And as far as I'm concerned, she could give _you_ a run for your money."

"Oh really?" Shira assumed a wide, taunting smile as her tail began to sway. " _She_ could beat **_me_**?"

"Damn straight," he shot right back, hands on his exposed, fuzzy hips. "You know what, champ? Eilyn could kick your ass any day."

" ** _My_** ass?" Shira growled, Ryder withholding his smile; he knew he was just doing what he did best. He was going to miss getting her riled up before a fight or a training session; that was how he got the best out of her after all. "Bullshit; I'd like to see her try."

"Give her a try and she'll knock you flat," Ryder teased.

"Oh hell no she won't," the hybrid began seething now, tossing Ryder's now damp shirt back at him. "You wanna see how she won't?"

"You'll have to convince me otherwise, champ," Ryder snickered.

"I'll fuckin' show you!" she snapped, stomping back over towards the training mat. "I'll show you that nobody can fuck with **_the_** mother-fuckin' champion Shira Amorae!"

"Atta girl!" Ryder laughed. "Show her who the hell is boss! _RIGHT_!"

On cue, Shira launched a thunderous punch that rattled the entire building.


	4. Chapter 4

_My apologies for being dormant this month. 'Twas nothing I could do to avoid being overbooked. Nonetheless, another chapter has been concocted for your viewing pleasure._

 _There are quite a few questions that—if answered—would compromise the story's intrigue, so I respectfully have to negate quite a lot of questions from my beginning Q &A. I hope those who asked said questions understand._

 _To ColonelStriker, no, Shira has no idea what Star Wolf was doing there, nor does she even know that was actually Star Wolf._

 _Do I consider that fanservice? Well, maybe Ryder's little massage bit, I suppose… All I can say is that you need not forget that extra… contact. Surely something relating to that will become important._

 _As mentioned before, the edgy and potentially offensive content will continue, so be advised when reading._

 _As a final announcement, tune in to Sheppard Studios'_ _ **Lethal Lockdown**_ _, as a certain beast may make her appearance in the near future. That is all I have to say this time. Sayonara for now._

 _[Sierra]_

* * *

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 **Chapter Four**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

* * *

"Still nothing," an armed opossum told Fox, looking over his shoulder to see him scrolling through displays on his single eyepiece. "Topside is completely scanned over."

"I've still got to check underground," Fox said, switching his eyepiece to display a map of the inner framework of the arena. "Get Falco down by the south exit ASAP. I'll meet him there."

"Roger that," the opossum nodded his head. As Fox walked away, he relayed into his radio, "Lombardi to south gate. Repeat: Lombardi to south gate."

Fox had to fight his way through the gridlock of patrol cars and civilian blockades alike in order to get to the gate in question. Armored cars were strategically spaced out within the plaza outside the arena's main doors, while yellow investigation tape and orange barrels mapped out a perimeter that the growing crowd could not pass through. He lost count of how many armored officers and regular investigators he passed by the time he finally made it to the south doors.

Tapping his boot against the red brick outside the open gates was Falco, his teammate and right-wing man. He had the same tactical gear Fox had, only tailored to his own specific needs. While Fox's had more bulk, his was leaner and more lightweight, even if it provided minimal protection compared to his boss. Even so, Falco looked primed and ready, so Fox merely nodded at him, and the duo quickly entered the vacant arena.

Upon entering, Fox and Falco immediately entered the employee access doors and descended into the bowels of the arena. After they scaled down the textured iron stairs, they began to traverse a long, dimly-lit hallway. Locked doors lined both sides, with the occasional chest of technological equipment limiting access to half of the already narrow hall. They stayed in relative silence, as they were too busy scanning the area for intelligence.

" _We didn't just_ _ **talk**_ _about injustice, did we_?" Fox's earpiece chirped, stopping him dead in his tracks. Falco stopped as well, although he looked absolutely confused as to why his leader abruptly stopped as he did.

"Did you hear that?" Fox asked over his shoulder.

"Hear what?" Falco asked right back.

McCloud grabbed at the radio strapped to the front of his shoulder. "Topside, repeat."

Seconds later, a different voice crackled back, "Negative, McCloud. Nobody is contacting you."

Fox sighed. "Ten-four," he replied, trudging forward. "I thought I heard something…" he muttered under his breath.

Yet, less than a half-minute later, that same voice from before washed over his ear again. " _We didn't just_ _ **suffer**_ _through the hell you put us through_."

Again, Fox stopped without another step, immediately cranking his head back to Falco. "There it is again!"

"What again?" Lombardi shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say or hear anything."

"Then who keeps talking to me?"

Again, Falco merely shrugged. "Your earpiece might be buggin' out. Just ignore it."

"Fine," Fox sighed, continuing forward once more. A nagging feeling deep within his mind kept thinking about the voice and desperately tried to link it to something concrete that he could perceive. Even so, Fox was forced to keep moving and keep his thoughts directed on the mission at hand. But who was that on his earpiece? He wanted to say the voice sounded familiar, but being as he was underground, without adequate reception, the voice was obscured by static. Still… there was something eerie about that voice…

Just as Fox thought he could push his thoughts away from that interesting message, the voice returned to his ear again. " _We're not on anyone's side. What we do isn't shaped by anyone but ourselves_."

Heeding Falco's words, Fox ignored the voice.

" _We don't talk about injustice_ ," it continued. " _We rectify it. We don't just attack the source… We make sure the source knows our presence. Do you? Do we have your attention now? Or have you not learned your lesson yet?_ "

Fox and Falco finally escaped that never-ending hallway, which opened up into a square room with a set of exit doors and a set of stairs ascending up into the access catwalk above. Falco attempted to turn around, but Fox quickly grabbed the collar of his vest and pulled him back. "Look," Fox said, pointing up at the rafters. A camera looking down at the rest of the room connected to a database box was suspended from a steel beam almost twenty feet from the ground.

"A camera?" Falco said in a mocking tone.

"That box it's connected to has its data," Fox stated.

"Commander Kusa already said that all cameras in the arena were sabotaged," Falco reminded him.

"They may have been interrupted from the master block," Fox explained, stepping over to the set of stairs. "But the data for the camera itself is in that box. That should tell us who was here."

"Well, _Einstein_ , how do you suppose we get…" the bird started, but trailed off when he saw Fox pull out a black and silver twin stepladder from underneath the stairs. "You're joking."

"I wish I was," Fox said through clenched teeth, lining up the peak of the ladder underneath the camera before spreading out the legs. The apex of the ladder was about two feet shorter than the camera dangling from the rafters, but Fox could make it work so long as he was careful with it. "Hold it steady."

" _I wish I could say it would be that easy, Star Fox_ ," that same voice from his earpiece interrupted just as he set one boot on one of the steps. Behind him, the exit doors slammed shut with one Wolf O'Donnell standing just in front of them—tactical vest and all. On the other end of the room, Leon stepped through the hallway they had just come in through, holding a composite baseball bat. To round out the team, Panther appeared on the catwalk and stood perched at the bottom of the connected staircase. Fox was surrounded.

"How did I know it was you jokers?" Fox rhetorically asked to nobody in particular, stepping down from the ladder to stare Wolf down.

"Lucky guess, runt," Wolf grunted. "Get away from that ladder."

"You don't scare me, Wolf," Fox growled back, his hand inching towards the radio strapped to his vest.

"You're blind down here, McCloud," Leon sneered, holding an empty canister only comparable to an EMP grenade. "Do what he says if you want any chance at getting out of here with your tail still attached."

"Fox," Falco hissed quietly. "Let 'im. I got a plan."

"Step away, Star Fox," Wolf repeated menacingly, baring his teeth slightly. Reluctant, but trusting his teammate's promise, Fox obliged and backed away with his hands raised. The wolf assumed a proud, yet sadistic smile that grew with each step his rival took. "Caroso," he grunted. Fox was roughly shoved aside as the massive panther began to scale the ladder from Wolf's side.

"It's all confidential," Powalski said, stepping closer to the group. "Can't let our presence here be compromised by a few talentless mercs. Surely you understand."

"And surely you'll understand this," Falco quipped, forcefully shoulder-tackling the ladder right as Panther reached for the camera. Now off-balance and completely caught unaware, Panther was reduced to a helpless victim as the top-heavy ladder teetered before falling to the ground, casting the cat into an open dumpster on the opposite side of the catwalk. The clatter of the ladder against the cement sent the rest of the room into a frenzy.

Leon quickly pounced on Falco while Fox went straight after Wolf. Fox ducked under a wild strike and pushed Wolf back with a stiff forearm to his gut. Following his recoil, McCloud followed up with his own wild strike that caught Wolf's shoulder, then rounded out his attack with a spinning kick to the back of his knee, taking out his legs from underneath him. Fox took this opportunity to regather the fallen ladder, lining it right underneath the camera. Before he had a chance to climb it, however, Leon delivered an elbow to his back and forced him off.

Fox ducked under a swing from Leon's bat, and retreated by slipping underneath the folding arms that held the ladder together. Powalski's bat clanged against the reinforced aluminum rungs as he pursued the fleeing canine, wildly swinging in hopes to catch him. Alas, he was interrupted when Falco returned and tripped the chameleon, immediately kicking his wrist to release his grip on the bat, and then quickly punted the weapon away.

While Falco occupied Leon, Fox again decided to ascend the ladder. Wolf attempted to stop him, but Fox resiliently kicked his hands away before they could clamp down on his leg. Irritated, O'Donnell stepped back a few feet, then sprinted towards Fox, leapt up just as he got to the base, and slung his arms around Fox's chest; the momentum enough caused the ladder to topple over yet again. The two canines were sent sprawling onto the concrete floor, the ladder clattering to the ground soon thereafter.

Panther found himself back into the skirmish moments later, groggily climbing out of the dumpster with various stains on his black tactical outfit. He stumbled over to the catwalk stairs and retrieved yet another black and silver ladder from the pile of tools underneath it. Instead of setting it up, he locked his gaze on Lombardi kicking his teammate around, and decided to use the ladder as a weapon. The panther broke into full stride in moments flat, using that momentum to hurtle himself into Falco with the ladder carrying the brunt of the impact. Fired up, Panther thrusted the ladder down upon a prone Falco, who cried out in pain as the metal ladder bounced off of him.

He scooped up the other ladder and lined it underneath the camera, again attempting to scale it. He was near the top before McCloud got to his feet, so there was no way for the fox to get him down unless he decided to meet him up there. Determination overshadowed his overlying trepidation to the point where he believed he needed to get Panther down no matter what. He stumbled over to the other end of the ladder and climbed up, watching as Caroso reached for the camera at the top. Swiftly, Fox landed a jab into his chest, but the padding he wore made it seem like a mere nudge. They traded blows, blocking the ones directed at their faces and shrugging off the others.

An opportunity presented itself when Fox faded away from a wild hook directed at his muzzle, so he quickly lashed out by grabbing the fur on top of Panther's head and smashed his face against the top tread. Fox ascended another step to get better leverage on the oversized cat, repeatedly bashing Caroso's head against the textured metal with every step he took. Leon held on to Panther's side of the ladder to stabilize it, but that wouldn't save his teammate after what idea flashed into Fox's mind.

He elbowed Panther right atop his skull, and while his face was forced against the peak of the ladder, Fox grabbed the cat's waist. In one fluid motion, McCloud leapt over the disoriented panther, flipped over him while keeping his center of motion honed in on Panther's waist, stuffed his boots into an unoccupied rung on Panther's side, and finally put all of his weight into ripping Caroso from his perch on the ladder. Since his reaction time was delayed after having his head battered around, Panther had no time to react, and could only brace himself as Fox pulled him off and essentially threw him into an unsuspecting Leon. Fox's foot slipped, however, so both he and Panther broke off of the ladder and went careening into Powalski, who—in one way or another—broke their fall. While it still hurt him, McCloud rolled away from the pileup and was quickly back up to his feet.

Fox wasted no time in attempting to climb up the ladder for a fifth time now, and this time he got higher than his previous attempts. Though, that didn't stop Wolf from impeding his progress yet again. This time, however, Falco was quickly back on his six, pulling O'Donnell away before he could interfere with his teammate. Enraged, Wolf scooped up the extra ladder and tried to ram Falco with it, but the bird nimbly dodged it by ducking under the apex directed at his beak. He then extended his leg and kicked underneath the back of Wolf's knee, causing him to falter and wedge the peak of the ladder through the rungs of Fox's ladder about halfway up, while McCloud continuously climbed one rung after another.

With a burst of adrenaline, Falco sprinted at the propped ladder, nimbly scaling the angled rungs. Wolf saw his athleticism and abruptly pulled his ladder away, but Falco managed to leap across and onto Fox's ladder, immediately flipping around to face Wolf. Before O'Donnell could process what had happened, Falco dove off his perch and into him. Wolf caught him somewhat as Falco's chest landed on his shoulder, but the bird quickly acted as he slithered his arm around Wolf's neck, using the momentum of his leap to twist him in the opposite direction. Getting O'Donnell moving was one part of his plan, but the second was transferring all of his body weight and momentum into his legs, allowing him to drag Wolf's head to the ground with him. Lombardi planted Wolf's head with so much force and momentum that, after Falco let go once his back landed on the floor, Wolf was launched a good five feet or so, flipping into a sitting position, motionless.

Almost at the top of the ladder, Fox had the tips of his fingers against the camera and the data box connected to it. However, he noticed a shift in the center of gravity. Fox quickly became horror-struck when he noticed a dazed and disoriented Leon pushing the ladder, hoping that it would tip. Sure enough, as fundamental physics laws would dictate, Fox began to tip. Jumping would shatter his legs, so he had no choice but to hold on for dear life as he began to lose his balance. The cold, unforgiving cement floor seemed to jump up to meet him—

With an abrupt, convulsive jerk of his upper body, Fox bolted ramrod straight, panting and gasping for fresh breath. With a racing heart and trembling muscles, the poor fox breathed hoarsely and irregularly; that combined with his impromptu spasm caused the vixen at his side to stir into consciousness.

"Fox, what's the matter?" Kusa said in a low purr, still partially asleep as she lazily slung an arm over his midsection. Still plagued with panic-invoked shallow breaths, Fox couldn't properly respond to her as much as he wanted to assure her that nothing was wrong. After not receiving a reply for quite some time, Kusa sat up to meet him, calmly combing her claws through the clammy, matter fur on his back.

"Fox, you're a mess," she mumbled, trying to expel the heavy, quick breaths seeping in and out of Fox's clenched teeth. "What's wrong?"

The soothing, hypnotic motions of Kusa's delicate, yet vaguely possessive fingers managed to soothe the panic in Fox's veins. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, and he was finally able to perceive his surroundings.

It was late morning, judging by how the light from the sun seeped through the thin curtains of her bedroom. The vibrant colors sporadically and unceremoniously scattered about the room were amplified with the intense light, but oddly enough, they didn't cause immediate headache. In fact, the unorganized mixture of adolescent colors provided another layer of effective calming towards his strained nerves. The clock on her dresser across the room read a quarter before eleven, signifying how late they had slept in. Together.

Fox sighed. "Nightmare," he finally replied, only increasing the comforting aura of the light gray vixen at his side.

"Aww, Foxy," Kusa murmured tenderly, wrapping her arms around him. "It's okay. I'm here for you."

The late night he had, the nightmare he experienced, a collage of his recent personal life, and the reassuring actions of the vixen all combined together into one mass of emotional conflict tormenting Fox's mind. The torrent of psychological distress only recognized in its entirety by him and him alone sent him into another frenzy, yet this one was more isolated and more controllable than the last one. Her words only amplified his distress, so much so that he forced his brain into autopilot in order to avoid making a scene in front of her.

Moments went by in complete silence as Kusa continued her heavenly massage on Fox's sweat permeated fur. All the while, the war raging within Fox's conscience threatened to expand to his physical state, but managed to contain the chaos. Thinking harder and more in-depth on his current state in life managed to both exponentiate his worry, yet send it some much needed relief. The more he thought about Kusa, the more his mind began to grow more and more fond of her… making his impending actions more justified.

Seemingly out of nowhere and out of his unconscious thought, Fox replied, "I know."

Kusa's eyes gently rose up to meet him. "What?"

Fox regained control of his arms and embraced her back, despite her initial hesitance to accept it straightaway. "You're here for me," he said in the same way she spoke, muzzle resting atop her head. "And, well… I'm here for you too."

Screw talking to Krystal first. He needed this off his chest.

"Kusa," he continued, retracting his head in order to reestablish intimate eye contact. Their eyes seemed to read each other like books written in foreign languages. They looked beautiful at first sight, but there was no understanding them without explanation. He swallowed his hesitance and smiled weakly. "I need you more than you need me. I need someone like you. Someone to love without anything holding us back or getting in our way."

Kusa returned the smile with eagerness. "So…"

Fox couldn't help but chuckle. "What you said about us being partners in a job… Can we be a little more than just business partners? More than just friends?"

The vixen's grip on him tightened. "Of course, Fox. I'd be stupid to say no."

He breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her back. "Thank you," he murmured into her ear, interlocking their cheek fur together with their heartfelt embrace. As soon as he pulled away, Kusa pounced, locking her muzzle onto his and refusing to let him escape until he returned it. Running on impulse, Fox obliged with the hungry vixen's demands and happily kissed her back. It wasn't anything passionate or sensual, but it was satisfying regardless.

In that moment their tongues met, Fox's internal hesitance vanished from thought altogether. There was nothing holding him back anymore, and if there was, it was overshadowed by the intimacy shared between him and **his** new vixen. Sure, clearing up the confliction between both parties would be a job in and of itself, but at least he could rest knowing that he had reinvigorated something he thought could never have new life within it. He had a new beginning with her, and if first impressions could be taken and spread amongst the entirety of his life, he'd enjoy this much more than anything else.

A bittersweet restart, but a needed one nonetheless.

Kusa finally broke the kiss when her craving of Fox had been satisfied. As the exhilarating thrill of their first kiss simmered down, Kusa became giddy and energetic as usual. She escaped Fox's hold and slid out of bed, nearly bouncing on her hind legs as she did so. "Well, Foxy; shall we talk over some coffee?"

"As long as there's sugar," Fox chuckled, winking at the vixen as he too slid out of the sheets. "And I totally meant you, in case you missed it."

"I like this flirty side of you," Kusa purred, intentionally swaying her hips in the most provocative way possible. "Keep talking like that and I'll promise you something sweeter than sugar."

As Kusa slipped out of her bedroom, Fox couldn't withhold the genuinely happy, yet devious and naughty smile that had creased his muzzle.

First impressions: he definitely made the right choice.

* * *

[§]

* * *

Gentle tapping of claws upon wood disturbed what _was_ a restful slumber for Miss Saitl. She only stirred the first round and tucked herself deeper into her warm, protective bunker, but her eyes snapped open during the second round of much harsher tapping. She huffed in discontent, tossed the comforter off of her body, flung her legs over the bedside and onto the carpeted floors, and then stamped her way over to the door. Jerking the door back with an angry demeanor, she was… a little less than pleased with the chameleon in her doorway.

"What?" Eilyn growled impatiently. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Yea, that's great and all…" Leon spoke with urgency, yet disinterest. "…but I have something that–"

"Get," she interrupted, a menacing glare directed his way with an extended digit directed down the interlocking hallway.

"But I need to–"

"I said _get_ , and don't come back until _I_ say so," Eilyn demanded, thrusting the door shut. Due to that exchange, the young wolf-ess was wide awake, but that didn't stop her from crawling back into bed. Never did she like mornings. Anyone that woke her up had a chore to deal with upon meeting up with her—case in point with Leon just now—but even at that, she didn't express any care or desire for anything unless it was _well_ after noon. Since she and the rest of her new team had been up since four last night, seeing her clock read eleven AM was not a sight she wanted to be woken up to.

Just as her impulsive morning rage simmered down to the point where _maybe_ she could fall back asleep for another hour or two, a buzz sounded on the nightstand. It was from her wrist-com; the display showing a new notification she couldn't decipher from where she was. Already in a foul mood, Eilyn merely rolled over and ignored it. But it buzzed once more as a reminder, setting her temper off.

"Now what could it possibly be now?!" she growled to nobody in particular as she rolled back over to flash her arm out, swiping her device off the nightstand. With her hazel eyes still adjusting to the intruding brightness, she squinted when the display of her device lit up upon activation. The blur of text gradually solidified into concrete words she could… at most _read_ , given the hour and circumstance.

 **Ryder Allgrich** : _Um, I know it's short-notice, but the beast *really* wants to meet you. We're at the CFC offshoot training facility on SR 18 and Route 161. Bring gear… …maybe a few painkillers too._

"You can't be serious," muttered a frustrated Eilyn. She replicated her rhetorical question into her response word-for-word, with the hyena trainer reading it moments later.

 **Ryder Allgrich** : _Shira's very adamant about seeing your skills right now, while she's warmed up. I wouldn't keep her waiting any longer._

 **Eilyn Saitl** : _I'm hungover as f–k dude; what good will I be?_

 **Ryder Allgrich** : _That's not my problem. Shira's gonna be pissed if you no-show._

 **Eilyn Saitl** : _Fine. Tell her not to keep her fist up her folds. I'll be there in fifteen._

Defeated and clearly angry, Eilyn unceremoniously tossed her wrist-com on her sheets as she rolled out of her bed again. With diminished vigor in her system, she staggered around her room, groping at her desk, nightstand, and dressers in order to stay on her feet. The white wolf-ess stumbled through the door of her private bathroom, wasting no time in turning on the sink and splashing her face with slightly chilled water. That in and of itself weakened her looming hangover, but she was still a bit disoriented.

As she let her muzzle drip dry, she rummaged through the cabinet over her sink, knocking over partially filled opaque orange vials and bottles of numerous medications before she found two she needed. She popped out two pills of her migraine reliever, as well as a couple tablets from her stash of ecstasy. Stuffing the pills into a tiny plastic baggie, she left them on the counter as she stepped back into her bedroom. Her wrist-com was glowing as she returned to her bed.

 **Ryder Allgrich** : _Fist up her folds?_

Eilyn wished she could send the sound of her paw smacking against her forehead to him, but instead opted for a more practical and snarky reply.

 **Eilyn Saitl** : _Ask her what that means. I dare you._

 **Ryder Allgrich** : _I'm not gonna take the bait. Just get down here._

The wolf-ess sighed and casted her device onto the sheets again. She sniffed at the tuft of fur on her shoulder, then lowered to sniff under her arm. Satisfied with a relatively average scent, she stepped forward and rummaged through her drawers, not stopping until she located a skimpy, unrestricting set of delicates and a set of her nylon training garb. After slapping them on, she returned to the bathroom to brush out her mess of hair.

A soft knock sounded on her door. Eilyn instantly snarled: "I swear to _fuck_ , Leon, I'm going to rip you a new asshole and stuff your tongue up it if you bother me _one more time_!"

"Easy in there, spitfire, it's just me," Wolf's voice sounded on the other end. "Might I come in?"

Eilyn hastily stuffed her bag of pills into her bra and combed over her hair with her hands one last time. "Fine, come in," she said with a false sense of charisma, hoping she could impress the larger wolf. As she stepped out of her bathroom, she saw Wolf shutting the door behind him.

"Going somewhere?" Wolf asked.

"Amorae is antsy for a fight," Eilyn answered with distaste. "Can't believe her; getting me up early when I'm hungover and irritable. I'm gonna show that whiny, menstruating she-male why she shouldn't pick a fight _now_ of all times."

Wolf chuckled heartily. "Yea, we're gonna get along real well," he murmured, watching as the young wolf-ess wound her wrist-com around her right arm. "Hey, good luck, okay?"

"I don't need luck," Eilyn remarked, passing by O'Donnell as she exited her room. Wolf courteously pursued as to not linger in her personal room.

Eilyn's small apartment in the nicer end of the low-income housing district temporarily housed the Star Wolf team, for their other base locations had been ratted out month after month. It wasn't spectacular, but it didn't need to be; just as long as the team had a place to stay and rest at the end of the day. The curtain-covered windows would have showed a bird's eye view of the surrounding super-freeway and low-sitting businesses dotting the area, but Wolf had them closed for obvious reasons. That window acted as one of the walls of her apartment… for the small living room portion of it, at least. A loveseat, coffee table, television, and end table were stuffed in between the wall of her bedroom and the outer wall of the apartment as a whole. The kitchen resided to the left of that area, broken up by a long bar counter and supporting pillar.

To lighten up the room, Eilyn turned on a lamp residing on the end table near the couch. "I won't be gone for long, hopefully," she said, sticking her ears through a plain black baseball cap. "There's an extra set of keys in the kitchen drawer above the sink. Let me know if you go anywhere, and please—for God's sake—don't let anyone know you're staying here. If you need 'em, there's leftovers in the fridge."

"Thanks, mom," Wolf jokingly commented.

Eilyn smirked. "I'll be back once I'm done," she said, retrieving her set of keys. Wolf said his goodbye, permitting the wolf-ess to exit her apartment, locking the door behind her. Within moments, Eilyn traveled down to the ground floor, located her car in the adjacent parking lot, and then set her course for the gym.

Along the way, Eilyn managed to bind her hair into a ponytail with one hand, slipping it through the slit in her cap while she drove with the other. After that was taken care of, she grabbed the roll of thin gauze sitting in the passenger seat and, alternating between hands while continuously driving, rolled a layer around both of her palms and wrists. Even while doing all of that, Eilyn still managed to sing along with just about every song that appeared on her radio in the meantime.

Minutes later, Eilyn wedged her car between two familiar cars in front of the offshoot gym Ryder mentioned. Taking only her set of keys, she stepped out of her car and trotted into the gym.

Similar to Shira's favorite hangout facility, the CFC's licensed gym had many of the same features and roughly the same layout as the former, however, being as it was indeed licensed and funded by the organization, the equipment was much nicer and the facility as a whole radiated a distinguished aura… it gave the sense that this place was much more than what the outside made it out to be.

Eilyn trotted right in, holding up two fingers to the raccoon at the desk. "It's alright, I'm here with Amorae."

"Name?" the raccoon quickly interjected.

"It's fine," shouted a far-off voice belonging to the hyena Ryder. Eilyn spun around to see him briskly jogging up from the back of the facility to meet up with her. When he finally stood next to her, he immediately stuck out an open hand. "Thank you for getting here so quick. Though… what was that bit about being hungover?"

"Never mind that," Eilyn huffed, merely slapping the open hand with her own as she made her way to the back. "Where is she?"

Rubbing his stinging hand, Ryder attempted to answer, only to be cut off with a resounding boom.

"Should've known," Eilyn mumbled, pushing her set of keys off on him. "I won't be long."

"Wait, Eilyn," Ryder fumbled with the keys as he followed. "I don't want you two to fight just yet, I need you–"

"Fuck that; you got me up early to meet her here," Eilyn interrupted, checking the gauze on her hands. "I'm wiping the floor with her to teach her a lesson."

"Uh, kid," Ryder spoke with hesitance. "You might not want to piss her off any more than she already is."

"And she likewise to me," Eilyn quickly shot back. "Ryder, I respect the hell out of you, but if you want me and _beast_ to get along, she needs to know how _I_ work."

The hyena sighed, finding it futile to continue. He turned his head towards Shira, snapping his fingers when she wasn't abusing her inanimate opponent. "You've got company, Shira."

Shira heaved for breath as she folded over, cranking her head around to see her guest. Upon seeing Eilyn, a scowl formed on her muzzle. "Who is this?" she snapped, straightening herself out.

"Your new trainer," Ryder said surely. "Eilyn Saitl."

" _She_ is my new trainer?" she interjected with audible distaste, a sarcastic smile directed towards the two.

"Better lighten up, toots; don't get on my bad side already," Eilyn quickly shot, Ryder's ears perking at the sound of her voice.

"Uh, kid–"

"Punk said _what now_?" Shira scoffed. "Ryder, get _this_ out of my gym before I get involved, please."

"The only way I'm leaving is if you _do get involved_ ," the wolf-ess retorted.

"Eilyn–"

"Sweetie, I don't have the time, nor do I have the patience to deal with you right now," Amorae dismissively replied, turning around to walk away from her. "I've got a match to train for, m'kay?"

"Have fun losing it if you kick me out," Eilyn remarked surely.

"Ah jeez, Eilyn, please–"

"Oh, and you think _you_ can be much help?" she laughed aloud to taunt her. "You couldn't even _reach_ my face, punk. What makes you think you'll be able to train a champion?"

"I know I can _beat_ a champion," snapped a riled up Eilyn. "Especially you, _champ_."

Shira merely snickered and approached her worn punching bag. "Sorry, sweetie; I don't mean to disappoint, but I could get arrested for injuring a minor. Maybe some other time."

"Sounds to me like you're not up for a challenge," sneered Saitl.

"You're hardly worth my time," scoffed an irritable Shira, tightening her gloves. "Talk to me when you grow a foot and put on sixty more pounds… and when you're old enough to drink."

Eilyn growled, turning to look at Ryder. "She always like this?"

"She's… what I like to call an _alpha bitch_ ," Ryder explained. "Competitive, won't even consider anything that might not be worth her time, and pissy when she doesn't get her way."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Saitl rhetorically said aloud, hoping that the hybrid fighter would hear. Raising her voice more, she added. "You know what, toots? Humor me. Quit acting like a whiny bitch on her period and fight me."

A thunderous right hand impacted the punching bag as Shira's muzzle immediately contracted, baring sharp teeth in the process. "Oh, you're fuckin' on now, tiny. Get your little lesbian ass over here so I can tear you a new one your bitch can lick clean."

Eilyn kicked her shoes off and followed the massive hybrid over to an unoccupied canvas surrounded on all four sides by conjoined ropes. As soon as both women were ready, Shira wasted no time in going on the offensive side, aggressively chasing Eilyn in hopes that one of her wild strikes would land. To Eilyn's advantage, she was much quicker and metaphorically half her size, so dodging a nasty strike from Shira came easy to her.

Eilyn's quick feet kept at her rate for over two minutes, with Shira in a rage-induced state and showing no signs of relent. Due to this, Saitl noticed how the huge hybrid had tired over the duration of their fight. Her strikes were becoming slightly weaker, and her movements were becoming slower and slower the more Eilyn made her chase. While the wolf-ess herself was getting tired as the "match" progressed, it was nowhere near comparable to how tired Shira was considering her sleepless night and her unending anger.

She finally became tired of Amorae's juvenile antics and decided to end the skirmish while she herself still had some energy to spare. After Shira tried to clobber her with a wild right uppercut, Eilyn pounced and delivered three quick jabs in rapid succession to her muzzle. That set her anger off again, but her body wouldn't allow her to gain a burst of adrenaline. Thus, Eilyn continued her psychological and physical counterattack, launching her own strikes whenever Shira would miss.

With a roar, Shira belted out a nasty right hook that went soaring over Eilyn's ears. As a counter, the young wolf-ess leapt up and twisted her body, roughly catching the side of Shira's head with her foot. A sickening crack signified the kick's savage impact. As Eilyn remained on her knees after that brutal strike, Shira stood dazed; unmoving and unresponsive.

"Champ?" Ryder called out.

Shira finally fell to her knees, and after reaching out with her left hand at nothing in particular, she toppled over onto her side, chest heaving from exertion.

Eilyn stood up and dusted off her paws. "Yup, you're quite the monster," she taunted. "But you have a little thing I like to call a _temper_. I'm not teaching you any new tactics other than how to control that temper of yours. Do that, and you'll be one hell of a champion."

"You're… a fuckin'… piece of work…" Shira panted, opting to lie on the mat to regain her breath. "But… …I like… how you play…"

"Good," Eilyn smirked, patting Shira's head. She turned to Ryder, and in passing by him, she patted his shoulder as he stared bewildered at the unconscious hybrid lying prone on the mat. "My work here is done for the day. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Take care… Miss Saitl…" Ryder mumbled through an ajar muzzle.

Eilyn swiped a towel from one of the racks as she exited the gym. As she stepped into her car, she noticed that her seat was still warm from her using it earlier. After drying what little sweat had accumulated on her face, she tossed the towel into the passenger seat and started her car.

Yet, a message on her wrist-com quashed any wish of her crawling back into bed once she got home.

 **Wolf O'Donnell:** _We've got eyes on her. Get here now; we're going in._


	5. Chapter 5

_I guess monthly updates are going to be the norm when taking into consideration all the things that can arise in the insane world that is life. Ironically, I was given an overseas trip much like Sheppard Studios for the month of June, so I'll use that as my excuse. At least I wrote an update before he did. ;)_

 _Sorry Nail, but Sheppard had the better guess. It wasn't Shira they're gunning for. Though, don't keep a resurfacing rivalry between them out of your mind._

 _I guess the ladder fight had mixed reviews, but I'll admit it was quite the fun battle to write. Don't assume silly gimmick-based fights won't come back. It's entertaining, even if it does stretch levels of disbelief._

 _Eilyn was banned from competition because she's so young. Plus, she enjoys ripping on other fighters. ...Obviously..._

 _So, with that said, another chapter for your enjoyment. Sayonara._

 _[Sierra]_

* * *

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

 **Chapter Five**

[x][x][x][x]—[x][x][x][x]

* * *

A hot and fresh breakfast was exactly what the newly coupled pair of foxes needed to wake up after a quick, restless slumber. Still feeling the effects of his late night and unsettling dream, Fox groggily assisted Kusa in preparing a meal for the two of them to enjoy before going off to their day jobs. Already with two cups of coffee in her veins, the light gray vixen piled up two identical plates and set them down on the kitchen table.

While they both ate slowly and savored the moment just as they savored the divine taste on their tongues, Kusa continuously held a rather unimportant conversation with her newly established significant other, mainly as a way to build bridges between similar interests. Just like last night, however, Fox's deficit in attention surfaced once more, and, especially with what had transpired just in twenty-four hours, caused his mind to wander. Disinterestedly answering Kusa's questions became his morning quicker than he had realized.

"Is there something wrong, Fox?" Kusa abruptly asked when one too many of her comments or questions fell on unconvincingly attentive ears.

Fox inadvertently swallowed hard. "Oh, uh, it's… really nothing," he stammered, scratching fur on the back of his neck. "Just tired. Didn't sleep well at all."

Kusa looked concerned, but there was a hint of distaste lingering in her expression. "How come? You had me to sleep next to, no? Surely that would be enough for anyone to have a great night of rest."

"It was that nightmare," Fox concluded, avoiding eye contact. "It was way too real for me…"

"What happened?" she asked, eyes wide and eager.

"Falco and I were at the arena to do a secondary check," Fox explained, barely making himself audible. "Then Star Wolf showed up and attacked us. Call it a hunch or a divine intervention, but that's who I think was after you last night."

"Star Wolf?" Kusa echoed skeptically. "Didn't you put those clowns out of business?"

Fox blushed. "Well… actually, Kusa, I… might've _kept_ them _in_ business."

Kusa's eyes narrowed. "You _what_?"

He started to fidget in his seat as if he were put in time-out by his parents. "They helped us when the Aparoids were attacking; saved our lives, even. I returned the favor and dropped our charges from the Lylat Wars. Not having that legal guillotine over their heads allowed them to continue and expand."

Kusa nodded, not expressing outstanding malice. "Well, I appreciate the benevolence… but if they are going after me… Well, you kept them in business, and you're gonna put them out and behind bars. Got me?"

"I know, Kus, I know," Fox nodded his head. "But you have to understand that they're not the easiest find, nor the easiest catch. After the Lylat Wars, I spent years tracking them down. Every time I'd come close, they'd slip away again. We're not dealing with a few amateur criminals here."

Kusa hummed understandingly.

"Uh, fellas," Powalski spoke up in a hushed yell. "She's not alone in there."

"I can see that," Wolf growled. "I had a feeling that runt would show up here."

Panther crouched behind the two and glanced over their shoulders. "Got a plan?"

"I hate to say it, but the plan right now is wait," Wolf answered, backing up behind the cover of the house itself. "Atkiness may not recognize us, but McCloud will. He'll blow our cover if we try to step in now."

"Do you think he'll leave?" Leon piped in.

"No telling with him. But… I think this might be a good idea."

Wolf lifted his wrist and scrolled around the interface. He activated a camera of sorts, discretely angling it towards the two foxes while keeping it concealed from them in the process. He touched the display again, this time activating a nearly transparent red square that blinked periodically, as well as a time signature towards the top corner. It also just managed to pick up the conversation in the kitchen.

"Though, it doesn't matter who it was," McCloud said calmly. "I don't care if it was a military group from another planet, or even a different system. I'm protecting you regardless."

Kusa's worried expression melted into that of more confidence and security. She cracked a smile as well. "That makes me feel better."

"I thought it might," Fox smirked. "I'll have the team help when things get rough, but for now, it's just you and me."

"Just how I like it," Kusa smiled brightly. "Thank you so much Fox. You're the best."

He stood up. "Anytime Kus."

The vixen held out her arms. Fox needed no second invitation as he slid up to her and wrapped his own arms around her. Wagging tails and all, the two of them stood for a good half-minute before either one had any indication to break the hold. Fox backed away, yet kept his arms gently clamped down on her shoulders. She purred, then inched her muzzle forward to trade tongues with her golden fox.

"Gotcha," Wolf whispered triumphantly, snapping a picture of the intimate moment. He pulled away from the window, then outstretched his arm to his teammates. Three pictures appeared on his display. The hug, the moment before the kiss, and the kiss itself.

Both Leon and Panther looked confusedly at their boss.

O'Donnell sighed. "Do you know how much chaos the media would start if these circulated? This is just what we need to separate them."

Powalski nodded. "That is true."

Wolf smirked and turned off his display. "Well, I think we've done enough damage here. Why don't we pay some old friends a visit?"

* * *

[§]

* * *

Today marked the fourth consecutive day that the Star Fox team's beloved Arwings were undergoing in-depth reconstructive maintenance. That meant that the team's ace pilot, Falco Lombardi, was sidelined from the skies yet again, and to his displeasure, was rendered useless for just as many days as the repairs. Judging by when he arrived at the Phoenix Industries maintenance bay early this morning and saw his prized possession still suspended in the air—and in millions of pieces no less—Falco didn't seem the slightest bit pleased when he returned to his team's headquarters.

Just like many, if not all of Corneria's startup or independent businesses, no matter the profession or amount of following and capital, Star Fox's base of operations resided in a studio office complex in the heart of Corneria City's business island. There are two large islands just outside the coast of the mainland, the smaller one for strictly residential usage, and the larger one for commercial and industrial plants; all interconnected with a system of tunnels carved underneath the Capital Bay. The Star Fox team resided on the larger island, obviously, nested in a high-rise business tower overlooking the expansive sea.

Upon barging into their designated office space on the fifteenth floor, Falco's prevailing unhappiness honed in on the first person he saw, which, unfortunately, landed directly on an unsuspecting Fay Spaniel: one of their newest members.

"Spaniel; where's Fox?" Falco immediately barked out, startling the young canine.

"Oh, um, I–I–I don't know," she replied with a slight stutter, but her chipper attitude soon counteracted the sudden spook. "But I got good news though. Fox sent base a new message, like, _waayyy_ way late last night, and he said that we might be getting contracted by the CDF again! Isn't that exciting?"

"I'd like to get my Arwing back first," Falco mumbled, slipping by her into the hallway on the left that lead to the offices.

"Oh, I have news on that too," Fay spoke up, chasing after Falco with a hop in her step.

"Save it; I already visited this morning and saw her _still_ in pieces," Falco interrupted, entering his room designated with his name engraved on an elongated gold plate bolted to the door. "They won't have her rebuilt in a week, and if they do, I'm sending her back so that the engineers do it _right_."

The blue bird sat at his desk and activated his equipment, impatiently waiting for them to become fully functional. "I knew switching to Phoenix Industries was a mistake," he muttered under his breath, folding his arms behind his head. "Never had issues with Aerospace, but Fox sold out to save money. Stingy bastard— is he _in yet_ , Fay?"

"No, Fox said he'll be in late in his message; he was up until four in the morning!"

"Then I'll do this myself," he mumbled again, swiping his feathered digits across the holographic screens that had sprung up on his desktop. "Grab the financial info from Fox's office."

"Falco, you know only Fox and Peppy are allowed to discuss that," Fay said in a condescending undertone with her hands on her hips.

"Aerospace could upgrade my Arwing and give her back to me better than ever in four days, and so far Phoenix has had her for four and I won't get her back for another week!" Falco snapped. "Not to mention they'll probably screw with my configs and she'll never be the same. Hell, even _Slippy_ could fix her right!"

"I don't know how I'm supposed to help you," Fay admitted. "Just wait until Fox comes back."

"And when will that be; hmm?" Falco grunted, eyes wide with mock patience. "'Cuz he should'a been in two hours ago. He chose to have a long night, and if I do the same he'll get on my ass about it so why shouldn't I–" he abruptly stood out of his seat, "–do the same damn thing to him," he finished, blowing right by Fay and storming back down the hallway.

"Oh come on Falco, don't be like this again," Fay scoffed, chasing after the bird with her voice becoming more and more out of breath as she did so. "Sometimes things don't plan out the way you want them, right? I mean, we've had nothing but successful side missions ever since Fox reestablished his partnership with the CDF, and sure there've been some ups and downs since then, but what really matters is that we're having fun and making money doing it, and best of all is that we're helping the people–"

Falco swiftly spun around and cut her off with a glare. "Having fun and keeping our shit credible are two completely different things, Spaniel. Switching manufactures at this point in our quarter was a bone-headed decision."

As he turned around, another one of their newer pilots met him, an even more intimidating and disapproving stare glazed across her face.

"I'm talking about my Arwing, Miyu," Falco grunted at the lynx, compressing his forehead with his hand.

"And mine doesn't seem to matter?" Miyu quickly countered, her natural attitude evident with her natural accented voice and the position of her hands upon her hips. "Look, just because _you_ asked for a completely new tune-up to your old _piece of junk_ isn't mine—or _anyone's_ fault—other than yours."

"That _piece of junk_ happens to be _my_ Arwing that saved my ass fighting the Aparoids," Falco retorted.

" _Your_ Arwing is six years old, bird-brain," Miyu hissed. "What? Are they just gonna have the thing fixed better than my _brand new one_ in less than a week?"

"That's not my point!" Falco snapped. "My point is that Phoenix Industries will never be as good as Aerospace, and Fox switching to a more, " _economic"_ alternative is absurd!"

"Then complain to _him_ , not me, and not _her_ either," Miyu concluded, pointing off to the hallway, then to herself, and then at Fay as she went down her list. Displeased, the lynx roughly elbowed him as she passed by. "I hear another complaint outta you and I'll make it a point to stuff that _oh-so special_ stick shifter of yours right up your ass."

"Go eat a dick, cat," Falco squawked. "And go choke on it while you're at it."

"I sure will when I clock out and can go home to my fiancée," Miyu shouted back matter-of-factly, hips and tail swaying in her wake.

"Fuck you," Falco spat, middle finger raised.

"He probably will, thanks," she countered, winding the corner at the end of the hall.

Falco balled his hands. " _Oooohhh_ , I can't _stand_ her!" he growled, arms trembling in rage. Yet, in an instant, his boiling blood and escalating anger vanished with a simple touch. A slightly chilled hand gently laid upon his shoulder, enveloping him in an oddly comforting aura that he couldn't explicitly define or perceive up until an equally soothing voice cascaded into his mind.

"Easy, Falco," the team's Cerinian telepath, Krystal, said in a silky smooth voice, gently cascading her hand down his backside, and then right back up in one fluid motion. That alone seemed to placate the raging avian just as it had always done time and time again. With her iconic smile and swaying tail, the azure vixen stepped by him and into her designated office. Falco had nothing else better to do but pursue.

"I assume you heard about Fox?"

Krystal nodded as she sat at her desk. "As bummed as I am that he's not in right now, I'm really excited about this mission he's talking about. Did you know this is our first properly funded CDF mission since the Aparoids?"

"Yes, I'm painfully aware of that fact," Falco grunted, flopping down on the couch nearly every office space came equipped with. Crossing his legs, he added, "Here's hoping we don't botch this one up."

"We'll be fine, Falco," she smiled warmly, activating her own systems.

He had to give credit where credit was due: Krystal truly knew the shortcut to Zen itself. It seemed like every word or phrase that slipped through her teeth had the grace and aura of a mythical bird. In and of itself, Krystal was indeed quite the mythical creature herself, but the way she embraced her heritage and cultural beliefs long after her integration into Cornerian society, nobody would've believed it. They just would've thought Krystal was another rebel that decided to dye her fur.

Falco had just recently rejoined the team when Krystal was introduced to the Star Fox mercenary team. As much as he thought ill of the vixen and thought of her as a mere bag of fur and bones to weigh the team down, he was surprised to see how she progressed in training when Fox impulsively added her to the roster. Falco was her mentor, as much as Fox wants to say otherwise. How else could she have gained so much piloting skill in just the few short months they had her aboard? Falco was the ace, and she learned from the best ace on the team.

Falco did manifest some vague hostility towards her, regardless. For as long as the two blues on the team trained and built chemistry together, she always had that soft spot for Fox even though she only spent an hour of time with him at most. It was a bitter pill to swallow indeed, yet he didn't think much of it until the two foxes started getting close. It was as if the chemistry they had built over that past half-year was rendered useless and ineffective… at least in his mind.

The only good thing he had going with her was their similar prowess in the sky. Sure, she'd never get to Falco's unprecedented plateau of piloting _wizardry_ , but she wasn't just another target for the enemies, either. In fact, his jealousy in seeing her rise in skill provoked him to up his game further. Not just in the cockpit, but in martial arts and weaponry-based combat as well. He wanted to be versatile if it meant that he'd stay in that second-in-command seat in the company he had devoted so much of his time and livelihood in.

"So, when Fox gets in, I was thinking about the three of us going out to lunch to discuss the specifics," Krystal said, eyes locked on the bird. "Does that sound okay?"

"I'm always down for food," Falco smirked. "But, we'll have to see if Fox gets in before noon. Kinda hard to go out to lunch at two in the afternoon."

Krystal giggled. "That is true." Her ears perked when she heard the faintest of _ding_ s circulate through the hall. "Hey, I think that might be him."

The two of them stood up and filed out one after the other. Yet, upon entering the lobby area of their overall office space, they were greeted with a much different person… or, rather, group of people.

Standing clad in their infamous redesigned uniform of heavy-duty tactical garb black as black could get was the Star Wolf team. Though, they bore no visible weaponry. Wolf's vest still looked as bulky as ever with all of the numerous pockets and straps covering his chest, and both Leon and Panther sported similar vests sans the flashy pockets, but there were no weapons strapped to either one. Flanked on either side by his teammates, Wolf stood proud and tall with his arms limp at his sides.

Krystal immediately stared daggers at the group. "You."

"Hey now, I can see the anger," Wolf cracked a smile. "Save it, blueness; I ain't here to stir shit."

"What do you want?" Falco snapped.

"Aww, come on; you too?" O'Donnell snickered as he glanced to his teammates. "Why's everyone acting so hostile?"

"You really think we're gonna forget that hell you put us through?" Falco was quick to quip.

"That was years ago," Wolf dismissively answered. "Besides, we're a changed group, my friends. We'd never want to start any more ill intentions, okay?"

"Just 'cause you get a fancy new outfit doesn't mean you're completely changed," Krystal argued.

Leon butted in, "Well, the flight suits weren't all they were cut up to be. I'm a much bigger fan of this."

A returning Miyu piped in, "They do look pretty slick. I'll admit, you guys look like a proper PMC now."

"Don't encourage them!" Falco chirped.

"All right, all right," Wolf rose his arms. "I didn't come here to start arguing."

"Then why _did_ you come here?" Krystal growled.

"We came to talk," Panther commented.

Wolf nodded. "There's a few thing we need to get off of our chest. Is McCloud here?"

"He's not in yet," Falco coldly replied.

"Shame," Leon sneered under his breath.

Wolf did his best to look disappointed. "Well, that's unfortunate. I'd've liked to talk to him in person."

"Knock it off with this _nice-guy_ shtick," Falco interrupted. "Tell us why you're here."

Panther couldn't keep a straight face. "Jeez, you'd've thought we killed someone's parents at the rate they're treating us."

Leon was quick to turn to him and say, "Whoa, dude, touchy subject."

"I wouldn't bring that up," Wolf added. "You know how McCloud is with his parents. Every time someone brings them up, he just thinks they were killed yesterday or something."

"Oh, right," Panther shook his head.

"See, this is why I do the talking," Wolf smirked. "Anyway, Lombardi, Lynx… Krystal— do you even have a last name?"

Leon whispered, "I thought she took McCloud's."

"No, they aren't married yet," Wolf answered.

Panther sighed. "As, so my precious flower is still on the market…"

"We talked about this before, Caroso," Wolf scolded with mock intent. "Not until she leaves this team. Even at that, good luck trying."

"Anyway," Leon piped in when the Star Fox team started to lose more patience. "We wanted to fill you in on some things McCloud might not say. See, he's striking a deal with the CDF, that's what he wants you to think–"

"How'd you know?" Krystal inquired.

"We have our sources," Wolf smirked again.

Leon continued, "But, specifically, he's striking a deal with one of the heads of the CDF, Kusa Atkiness. And, well, that little cat has some tricks up her sleeve."

Panther cocked an eyebrow. "Hold on…" he murmured as Wolf started to look confused as well.

The chameleon added, "She's a desperate little girl."

"What?" Wolf grunted.

"Hold on, cat?" Panther said curiously as the team's voices started to simmer into that of a whisper.

"She's not a cat," the wolf argued.

"A cat…" Leon repeated in a mumble.

Panther chuckled, "She's— she's a wolf, bro."

"What?" Wolf yipped with wide eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm pretty sure she's a cat," Leon insisted.

"Dude, I'm a cat; she's not a cat," Panther explained. "She's a wolf."

Wolf growled, "Hey!"

"No, she's a cat," Leon tried to explain again.

"She's a _fox_ ," Wolf concluded, putting his arms between his two teammates.

"Shut up," Panther murmured at Leon as the latter just retracted away.

Wolf shook his head. "Regardless, we tried to stop by to see if Commander Kusa needed any extra help. She's a big name in the CDF, ya know?"

"Do you really think she'll go to a band of criminals to hand out a job?" Falco questioned with evident sarcasm.

"Well, she went to you guys first," Leon quickly retorted.

"You're not exactly clean yourself," Wolf added. "Especially your boss."

"Fox is the most honest person I know," Krystal snapped.

"Funny you should say that," the wolf cracked a smile full of self-indulgent pleasure. "Because I believe this is your boss right here."

Wolf rose his wrist and pulled up the opportune photograph of Fox and Kusa trading saliva at the kitchen table, flipping it around to show Falco, Miyu, and Krystal. At first, the three teammates just stared at the picture, stunned. Then Krystal's eyes began to burn. Her ears folded flat, and her muzzle began to contort to show off her teeth.

"Not so honest now, is he?" Leon sneered.

"Fox..." Falco whispered in utter disbelief.

"My message…" Wolf started, but hesitated for a second. "Well, _our_ message here… is to warn you of who… or _what_ , your boss claims to be. He may think it's best for his team, but us… Star Wolf…"

Wolf retracted the picture and began to back towards the elevator they arrived in. "We know what's best for business. _Our_ business. So… you better think twice before you try to interfere with us. We'll leave you alone, but all we ask is that you do the same for us."

"What are you planning?" Falco growled angrily.

All Wolf did was snicker as the elevator doors encapsulated them. His anger slowly diminishing into worry, Falco turned to face Krystal. She hadn't moved an inch since seeing that picture.

"Krystal," Falco started off.

"That liar," she seethed. "That cheating **_LIAR_**!"

The vixen snapped, unceremoniously flinging whatever paperwork was on the reception desk onto the floor, as well as the computer system and a few extra trinkets. As the mess of objects clattered to the floor in a messy heap, she began to breathe heavy and clench her fists so tight that the veins appeared to jump out of her fur.

"Krystal, calm down," Falco pleaded.

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" she screamed. "That no good son of a bitch! He cheated on me! He…" her anger began to slide into sorrow, tears welling in her eyes now devoid of fire. "He broke my heart…" she finished in a mere whimper. Crumpling to her knees, she began to sob into her hands.

Falco had nothing else to say. Hell, he was still dumbfounded Fox would pull a stunt like this.

"Why?" she squeaked. "Why would he do this to me?"

Falco gave her a gentle kick. "Uh, sweetie? You… might want to ask him yourself."

She reluctantly looked up, only to see Fox step out of the elevator…

…And immediately turn pale under his fur…


End file.
